


Rescue From Perdition

by dean_squad, vibraniumarm



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Supernatural, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cute date on the rooftop at sunset, Dean cooks for Cas, Death Threats, Explicit Sexual Content, Farewells, First Kiss, First Relationship, First Time, Fusion - The Hunger Games Universe, M/M, Minor Character Death, No one is a tribute, Possessive Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, SPN MBB 2019, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, The Hunger Games Compliant, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Very light dom!cas and sub!dean, Wealthy!Castiel, baker!dean winchester, dean teaches cas how to dance, swimming together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-03-29 21:02:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 81,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19027873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dean_squad/pseuds/dean_squad, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibraniumarm/pseuds/vibraniumarm
Summary: In the Capitol of Panem, Dean Winchester, best baker from District Four, leads an unfortunate life to provide money for his father John and uncle Bobby back home.At Reaping Day, once more Dean is forced to revisit the memories of his brother Sam, who he hasn't seen in almost ten years, and he attends one of the Capitol’s fancy parties in hope of using alcohol to cope and forget. What Dean least expected from that night was to meet the owner of a pair of captivating bright blue eyes belonging to Castiel Edlund, a man from the Capitol who despises the Hunger Games as much as him.Against all odds, friendship and love bloom amidst the threat of war. When the Mockingjay rises, the Revolution wreaks havoc across the nation, threatening everything Dean holds dear.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally here! This fic is the culmination of a long, challenging and fantastic journey. We are thrilled to share with the fandom a story that comes from out heart, hoping that you enjoy it as much as we do. We are first time writers, and writing in a foreign language (Portuguese is our first) so please be kind and ignore our rookie mistakes. There are many easter eggs sprinkled throughout the fic, let us know if you found any.
> 
> We need to thank some people that followed on our side on this journey.
> 
> First, a huge thank you to SPN MBB directors for creating, hosting and handling the Bang as amazingly as you did. You are great people, so kind and patient, and deserve a tight hug from all of us!
> 
> Secondly, to our betas [Lily](http://twistedbutcute.tumblr.com/) and [Laura](https://lauravic.tumblr.com/), our best cheerleaders, catching out spelling mistakes and inconsistencies when we were already blind to it. We'll forever cherish your reactions and comments! Also a big thanks to [Kazshero](https://Kazshero.tumblr.com/), who helped us checking our Final Draft, thank you so so much.
> 
> And lastly, but not least important, to our wonderful, lovely and talented artist, Any. Honestly, we could shower you in praise to the end of time. You're amazing and you deserve it. Please check the art masterpost [here](https://anyreiart.tumblr.com/post/185586741486/masterpost-art-for-spn-movie-big-bang) with not only two but SIX amazing works.
> 
> Mah needs to thank Bea as well because you are a fucking fantastic friend and I fucking love you.
> 
> It probably won't come as a surprise that Bea also thanks Mah, I thought our friendship couldn't get any stronger and I was gladly proven wrong. Love you, hun.
> 
> Don't forget to check the other fics coming out on [SPN Movie Big Bang](https://spnmoviebigbang.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Bea (vibraniumarm) and Mah (dean_squad)  
> xx

 

 

“Dean, I don’t wanna go again.”

“You’re a smart kid, Sammy. You know we have to go and you know our chances are really low, like, almost zero chance we are going to be picked.” Dean shared a smile of sympathy. “Don’t worry, little bro.”

He hated lying to Sam. If there was anyone in the entire world who knew Dean as well as he did himself, it was his brother, meaning that Sam already knew his words were nothing but lies.

Dean has always been there for Sam. When they lost their mother, Sam only a toddler: he was there. When their father told them they had a younger (half) brother, he was there to be the bridge between Sam and John, though he too was upset. Dean was the one to tell Sam to study as much as he could, despite how the school didn’t offer much more than skills to work, not to be smart and intelligent. He taught Sam to swim. He was always there when John, their father, wasn’t. Dean was always there for his little brother.

But The Hunger Games... That was something Dean couldn’t help Sam with.

“But Dean, it doesn’t make any sense. They send two people from each district to kill each other in order to entertain?”

Yes.

“No. It is to remind the districts about the revolution and not to fight against the Capitol- Sam, you know all that.”

“Bullshit, they want to show how we are their little puppets and how they can just kill us off if we want something different from what they are offering.”

A wave of pride overcame Dean. It was all true, of course. Sam was such a smart kid and he was only 13 years old. Dean remained silent, neither agreeing or disagreeing with Sam’s words.

“It’s your last Hunger Games,” Sam whispered. “And this is just my second. And Adam’s first.”

“Don’t worry about Adam.”

“But he’s our brother, Dean.”

“Half-brother. And there’s nothing I can do, or you can do. Or he can do. This is my last, but in a few years it’s gonna be your last and next year, Adam’s. Four is a big district, the chances of us becoming tributes are small. You can do the math thing.”

That was an argument Sam could accept. He nodded once and pushed his hair behind his ears.

“I still hate this.”

“Me too. But I’ve got your back, okay?”

“No!” Sam shouted then took a deep breath, calming himself. “You can’t volunteer if I get picked. Promise me you won’t do that, Dean.”

“Only if you promise me the same.”

The brothers went quiet, staring at each other. None could promise such a thing. The truth that each of them knew was that if one was picked, the other would volunteer and they’d be apart forever.

And even though neither Dean or Sam ended up volunteering for the other, the Hunger Games would still manage to change the course of the Winchester’s lives. How that happened though, was something neither would have guessed.


	2. The Curious Case of Dean Winchester

 

Dean’s life wasn’t what one could call simple. And that was strange, because everybody around him seemed to have a simple life - whether easy or difficult, still simple. Work. Home. Family. The Hunger Games.

Back when he lived in his district, once upon a time, Dean was never a role model citizen. While the youngsters got excited with the typical jobs in the waters of District Four, Dean skipped swimming classes to work at Bobby’s Bakery, establishment owned by his uncle - not blood related, but who cares? And when it was time for the Hunger Games and his friends were excited about it and admired the tributes, Dean was part of a group of people that despised the carnage of people.

However, Dean’s awareness of the real danger of the games only came when his brother reached the age of twelve. Every year before that he had gone to his line, not worrying about being selected. But seeing Sam, so young, lined up for his first Reaping and facing the possibility of death, changed Dean’s view of life. Living in the nation of Panem meant constantly living in the face of danger.

Protecting his family was the main reason that led Dean work as a baker in the Capitol a few years ago. Between running from the horrors of the past and the dreariness of the present, when Fergus Crowley invited him to go to an event during the Reaping Day, Dean seriously considered it. Dean would prefer to be buried in work at the bakery that day, but the invitation offered an opportunity to drown all those old memories in fine and free liquor, and so he accepted it.

He dug from his wardrobe this velvet purple blazer he got some time ago, chose a black pair of slacks and borrowed a black bow tie from his other friend, Benny. He even put some dark makeup under his eyes. Not bad. Dean thought, looking at himself in the mirror. He could easily blend in while wearing that. He had lived in the Capitol long enough to know that with the proper clothes and a nice fake accent, he could reach higher things than he would ever have dreamt of back in Four. He tried to live his life as a Capitol citizen before. Unfortunately, it didn’t suit him well, even if he knew how to.

Like all Capitol events, people were way overly invested in fancy clothes and in an enormous amount of food none of them needed or really wanted. One of the reasons Dean didn’t use to go to events like those was exactly that: capitolites wasting food while people from the districts were working their asses off not to starve.

This time there was a huge screen on one of the ballroom’s walls and few other screens around the place, so everyone could watch the Reaping and not miss so much as a second. On the other hand, there were no screens at the bar in the adjacent room, and it was there that Dean planned to settle. Fergus would find him there.

Dean knew one of the bartenders, Garth, who greeted him quietly and served him a dose of something strong that Dean couldn’t name and wouldn’t bother to learn. Theoretically, he and Garth didn’t know each other at events like these.

Gradually, the voices in the main room became louder and his glass emptier. Dean decided to move to one of the booths when the voice of Ceaser Flickerman, the famous TV host, announced the beginning of Reaping recapitulation, and that soon all Panem would know all the participants of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. He promised exciting news.

A grunt escaped Dean’s mouth against his will. Where the fuck was Fergus? It didn’t matter. He would continue to follow his plan: drink alcohol. Dean emptied his glass, enjoying the burn down his throat. He raised one hand, just enough for Garth to notice him.

“Just send me another of whatever this is, bud. Keep sending them until I can’t ask for more, will’ya?”

Garth went away and Dean peeked through the door for any sign of Fergus. He wasn’t coming, was he? The big, ugly face of Flickerman was on the big screen all the way across the ballroom, far from Dean, but apparently not far enough. Following the host’s face, the image of a boy from District One appeared. The boy’s proud face made Dean’s stomach turn into a tight knot. It probably reflected on his face, because his thoughts were interrupted by an unknown man.

“Here, it seems you could use a stronger liquor.” A new drink was set in front of him. “Specially if you wish to forget today’s event.”

“Yeah, I could use some of whatever this is for sure,” Dean replied, almost forgetting the fake accent, so important to maintain his cover as a Capitol citizen. The second drink was stronger and better than the first. When Dean raised his head to thank the man, he wasn’t there anymore. Dean searched the small room and found the unknown man talking to Garth. He looked the man over.

At first Dean thought he was just another server, but no, he definitely wasn’t. Although there weren’t any weird accessories hanging, glued or painted on the man, he was for sure a Capitol citizen. He was wearing a perfectly suitable three-piece suit, a dark blue almost like the night. He looked good. He wore a bow tie just like Dean’s, but he couldn’t tell if it was also blue or black. The most impressive thing about the man though, were his eyes. They were really blue, blue enough that Dean could see it from afar, and the man wasn’t even looking at him.

Wait, Blue Eyes was looking over here. Dean didn't even bother to pretend he wasn't staring. Maybe he wanted the man to know he was looking.  

“Do you require any assistance?” Blue Eyes asked, coming back to Dean’s table.

“Nothing you could help me with. And I wouldn't take you away from the fun of the Reaping Day.”

“The ‘fun’ doesn’t really start for few days, does it?” The man replied with what Dean could swear to be irony. His gaze was deep and intense, hard to avoid. He didn’t break eye contact as he called, “Mr. Fitzgerald? Could you bring me that bottle I was telling you about, please?”

Garth didn’t need to hear it twice and he was back in no time with a tagless bottle and two clean glasses.

“This is my next recommendation, and I strongly advise you to go easy on it if you want to walk tomorrow.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, honestly impressed, but mostly curious. “A man who knows precisely what he is drinking, huh?”

“One must know their job. All the drinks here were bought from my liquor store.”

Yeah, of course. Dean was just another potential client. After all this time in the Capitol, he still fell for the fantasy of knowing someone for something other than pure interest. It was sometimes money - okay, it was almost always money - and other times it was because of his looks, but never, never for who he was. Focus on the free alcohol, Dean Winchester.

“A liquor store.” Dean said, hoping that Blue Eyes didn’t hear his disappointment. “It’s Hunger Games time, you must be very happy with the celebrations, all the drinking...”

“To a salesman, it is one of the best of times.”

That was when Dean noticed the man didn’t have the accent people from the Capitol usually faked, just like Dean was doing himself at the moment. His curiosity towards him only increased. Why was a liquor store owner talking to him, and not out in the ballroom trying to sell his shit? Blue Eyes took Dean’s momentary silence as an invitation to sit down with Dean, and poured two shots of the new liquor, one for Dean and one for himself.

“I know everyone here or I’ve seen their faces at least once,” Blue Eyes said, tilting his head slightly to the right. “but I don’t know you.”

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t know me.” A grin pulled at the corner of Dean’s mouth and he tried to hide it by taking a sip of the new drink. It was strong. “Who do you think I am?”

Now that he was sitting across the table, the man’s features were more visible. Light pink lips, still dry underneath of some remaining liquor drops from his last sip. He wasn’t old, the same age as Dean or maybe just a little bit older. Behind the well shaved face and the neatly brushed hair - not blue, not green, not pink, just natural, dark brown hair - there were some indications of tiredness.

But no matter where Dean looked, his gaze was always drawn back to those blue eyes, full of something Dean couldn’t quite read yet.

Dean usually wasn’t the kind of guy who stared at a dude or a girl like that, but looking into those eyes was almost addictive, and he found it just impossible to look away. When Dean noticed that, he laughed. It was a low, almost-not-there laughter, but Blue Eyes heard it. Thin lines appeared in his forehead and his facial features changed into a mixture of confusion and curiosity. He leaned forward, a little closer than what Dean would judge normal for two strangers. Dean enjoyed it.

“I have no idea who you are.” The words were pronounced with extra pauses between each other. “As I said before, I don’t know you. All I know is that you are… strange. And that your accent is fake.”

Dean raised his eyebrows, impressed. He didn’t know if he’d forgotten to fake the accent at some point, or if the man just had a really good ear for accents. What caught Dean by surprise was that he didn't care. The only thing that mattered was to keep Blue Eyes there with him. Maybe playing with the man’s curiosity would work.

They both sipped their drinks quietly for a while. The tributes continued to be announced and soon it would be Dean’s District. No one he knew was participating the Reaping that year, but he still didn’t want to hear any familiar surname being announced. Again, he analyzed the man in front of him. What was he doing here and why wasn’t he out there with the other rich people?

“What brings you here?” Dean asked.

“I need to be here for multiple reasons. One of them is to supervise my wares.”

“Curiosity to see the tributes too, surely.”

“Not exactly.”

Dean was still caught in those eyes, his own gaze magnetically drawn to them. Dean couldn’t avoid it, not that he was even trying to. In fact, Dean knew very little of what was going on around him, he was just flowing along with the tide. Those were waves that Dean hadn’t swum in for a long time and he let himself just enjoy the dive.

“Curiosity is not your thing either.” Blue Eyes continued. “Or you would be in the other room watching the Reaping, not here faking an accent to a stranger.”

“Maybe. But why are you talking to a stranger? Do you just want me to buy liquor from your liquor store?”

“Perhaps. Of the people in the other room, I know which ones already buy from me, which ones will start to, and which few are never going to. But you are in here and I don’t even know your name.”

“That’s okay. I don’t know yours either.” Another laugh escaped from Dean’s lips, but this time he managed to turn it into a charming move. Even a little flirtatious, or so he liked to believe. Names were at least complicated for Dean as his own screamed ‘from a district not from the Capitol’. He should avoid that. “If I tell you my name, you’ll leave. I don't want that, so, I’m sorry.”

“How can you be so sure? I endure lots of people, many of whom are not at all pleasant. Unless you say you’ll harm me or threaten to spread around what I just said,  odds are that I won’t leave.”

The smirk didn’t seem able to leave Dean’s face. “Well, may the odds be ever in your favor.”

In exchange, Dean received an attempt of a smile. The man was pleased with the conversation and so was Dean. It had been a while since Dean had last flirted with a man, even though the Capitol, unlike District Four, was cool about that. If Dean wanted to pursue something with this man today, he needed to forget about the Hunger Games. He had to.

“No, I’m not gonna harm you. I don't want to. It’d be such a waste. But I can’t tell you who I am, so it’s better not to tell you my name. The only other option is lying and tell you that my name is, I don’t know, Fergus.”

Crowley’s name popped into Dean’s mind. His friends hated to be called Fergus because he hated Capitol people and his name was considered beautiful there. Sadly, many people were used to calling him Fergus, Dean included.

“Okay, I will settle for that.” Blue Eyes said after giving Dean’s words some thought. “I hope you don’t mind me calling you Fergus from now on.” His shoulders relaxed a little and he took a quick sip of his drink. “I have socialized enough to keep them buying from me. I just… don’t like being in there.”

At first, Dean just nodded. He wasn't actually happy with the arrangement - he wanted to hear his name in that gravelly voice - but, well, since when did it matter if someone knew his real name? Being from a District and living in the Capitol meant constantly being mistaken for an avox, a rebel. People usually just assumed he had done something against Panem and didn't have a tongue.

In that moment, sharing that drink, Dean didn't want to be from Four or from the Capitol, he just wanted to be Dean. But he couldn't. He took a sip from his glass to swallow those thoughts. “It's not my favorite place to be either. I was meeting up with someone but he hasn’t shown up.”

“Oh.” The blue eyes disconnected from Dean’s as the man looked away.

“A friend of mine.” Dean felt the need to explain when he missed the sensation of those eyes on him. “He’s kind of a douchebag, anyways. Just gonna kill him tomorrow, no worries.”

“Why are you friends with someone like that? Who does not bother to even show up?”

Those two simple sentences told Dean a lot about Blue Eyes, about what he expected from a friend: loyalty, truth, consideration... Dean's interest increased with each word said.

“Well, Blue Eyes, I ask myself that from time to time.” Happy to regain the man’s gaze, Dean smiled at him. “I don’t know, I guess we, as people, seek for some connection, any connection. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

When the man smiled, his eyes became a bit smaller. Dean’s smile grew a little wider in response. Dean wondered if they were both analyzing whether that moment was one of the rights or one of the wrongs in their lives.

Their gaze was forced to break when suddenly, the people from the other room started to talk louder. Some of them were even screaming. Dean stood up quickly, trying to figure out what it was. Then he heard the broadcast.

“That’s right people of Panem, District Twelve has a volunteer for the first time in the Hunger Games’ history!”

Dean held his breath and left the bar, entering the ballroom. Everybody seemed to be standing now. Some of them cheered in joy, others wore shocked faces, but none of them had the same expression as Blue Eyes. First it was blank. No feelings shown, except from his eyes, as if they were trying to say something. Then, he pressed his lips tighter. Maybe Dean only noticed that because he had been staring at the man’s face for the past hour, but he noticed. Their eyes met. Dean wished he could read the man’s mind through those eyes.

Even though they were in the middle of a crowd, suddenly, Dean had the sensation that they were alone.

“Poor kids.” The man mouthed the words. Only Dean saw it.

“Terrible.” Dean’s reply came in a whisper, but he knew Blue Eyes would understand him. He stepped a little closer without invading the man’s personal space. “Who the hell are you?”

Something in the man called him, but Dean knew it was dangerous. There was the physical attraction, of course, but under that, there was something more. A hunger, a need - need of what, Dean didn’t know - was consuming him. He needed and needed and needed.

Dean’s question seemed to get the man’s full attention. But only for a second. “I have to go back.” He pointed at the bar with his thumb. “May I offer you something else?”

That was it. As fast as the worry had come, it faded from the man’s face. He could be genuinely worried about the tributes and disgusted by the Games, but Blue Eyes would never know what it was like to stand in the line waiting to be called to die. He would never know the scars the Hunger Games could leave. He would never ever know what it was to lose someone because of the Games. Dean knew all that. It didn’t matter how much Dean tried to forget, it always came back to him. There was no forgetting when it came to the Hunger Games.

And Dean’s need scared the man.

“No. I should go,” Dean said.

Blue Eyes tilted his head, just like he did before, pressing his lips into a thin line. Dean wanted to fix that with his own hands, his own lips. He had to go home before his memories could make this Reaping Day worse. And yet, he wanted just a little bit more of that man: something to hold on when he was back home with his loneliness.

“I know it’s unfair, but what’s your name?”

“It _is_ unfair.” Blue Eyes gave him a tiny smile. “Good Night, Fergus.”

 

 

When Dean left for work early the next day, the door across from his opened, revealing his neighbor Garth. Living across from each other had helped them to develop something close to a friendship. Garth had given up a brilliant career in something he never mentioned back in the District One to work serving people in the Capitol for some reason he also never mentioned.

“Hey Dean, look at you, standing up like those drinks meant nothing.” Garth grinned at Dean from his open door.

“Need much more than that to drop me, man.”

“That’s what you say, but when Castiel gave you that old one, I thought it would definitely take you down.”

Castiel.

Castiel. Castiel.

Suddenly, Dean wanted really badly to hear Castiel say his own name. He bet Castiel would pronounce it slowly, each syllable as clear as the blue of his eyes. Cas-ti-el.

“Dean? Dean?”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked what was going on between you two.”

“Nothing.” Dean cleared his throat and locked the door to his apartment.

“Didn’t seem like nothing. I’ve seen Castiel on many occasions but he’s never spent so much time talking to only one random fella.”

“Just wanted to sell me some of his stuff.”

“Really?” Garth didn’t seem to believe him. “Just that? Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent.” Dean wasn’t sure at all.

“Look, Dean, I know I should trust you on that, so I’ll just say this and drop it, okay?” Garth ignored Dean’s disapproving look and continued. “If I could bet someone from the Capitol could be different, it’d be Castiel Edlund. I’m not sure why, or how, but he is different. I mean, he knows my name, he actually remembers it! You saw his clothes, he wears enough to fit in, but that’s it.”

“That doesn’t mean much.” Dean’s voice was rougher than he’d like it to be. He could barely breathe while Garth talked. “Capitol people are Capitol people, always living in the pretend.”

“He’s a nice person, that’s all I’m saying. You should try to talk to him again.”

“Alright matchmaker, now be a man of your word and drop it. I don’t want to talk about Castiel.”

Castiel.

Castiel. Castiel.

The name rolled on his tongue, as if trying to fix upon a location, as if it would be said many times and for a long time.

 


	3. Keep Calm and Carry On

 

If someone had asked young Castiel what he wanted to do when he got older, owning a liquor store in the Capitol was something he would not have thought of. Citizens of the Capitol were stylists, sponsors, influencers, game planners. His father had been a head Gamemaker from a prominent family, and his mother was the daughter of the Victor from the 17th Hunger Games, who had been allowed to stay in the Capitol in times long before the rule of President Snow. Castiel was expected to do great things, but he could never really fit into that reality very well.

His grandmother was to blame. A young and naive career from District One, she’d been easily influenced into volunteering to try to avenge the death of her true love. But a Victor never comes out of the Arena as the same person that went in, Grandmother used to tell him. Because of her and her stories, Castiel learned to see the rotten foundation of the Hunger Games: the fear it was designed to inflict and the order it was supposed to maintain. He grew up despising it, taking up his grandmother’s side on the civil war that raged in the Edlund household. On the other side, his father praised the Games. That disgusted Castiel, and from an early age, he viewed his father as a wicked torturer. And stuck in the middle of this war was his mother, forever dependent of the husband’s opinion and ever hopeful of correcting the rebellious son.

Of course, the constant dispute never reached the public eye. Castiel was young, but not stupid, and knew better than to express his real thoughts about the Hunger Games. He constantly faced the fate of rebels in the form of Avoxes, people who President Snow deemed traitors and were condemned to a life of silent slavery. That terrified him from an early age.

Castiel maintained the image of a quiet and calm child, and later, in the view of his schoolmates, of a weird teen. He didn’t do sports, he didn’t join any of clubs, he never participated in reunions to watch the Games. Girls admired his good looks, but rumor had it, he never dated anyone. He spent time with his grandmother and liked to read, and therefore, they left him alone.

The protection of being a weird teen faded when he reached adulthood, and Castiel was quick to learn how to handle himself in society. The easiest route was creating a version of him for others, keeping his real thoughts and ideas hidden.

Things became a bit easier when, after a big fight, his parents moved out to an apartment in the City Circle. Castiel stayed behind, living alone with his grandmother. He was 21 then and experienced freedom for the first time. It was the old lady that first came up with the idea of the liquor store, as well as its name: Wine Heaven. In District One, she was friends with a family of brewers, and after getting the approval from the Capitol, they imported new goods from the District in an exclusive deal.

Castiel really liked the work. It taught his hands to handle a heavy job and it kept his mind busy. Though he had never really worked before, he quickly adjusted to the routine. He learned to manage the business with efficiency, to stock in advance, knowing that when the Hunger Games were close or happening, his sales skyrocketed.

It was also because of his grandmother that he was introduced to the only friend he had, Charlie Bradbury. She was a witty, young woman, as fierce as her red, flaming hair and most importantly, shared his disgust for the Games and the rulers of Panem. Charlie became his right-hand man when, not a year after the founding of the store, his grandmother died. Though the shock of her loss was intense, Castiel soon found out he couldn’t live in the past and carried on, living alone in the empty house.

The store consumed most of his time, but Castiel didn’t mind, as sometimes he was grateful to have an excuse to avoid people or events. He didn’t even mind doing inventory, as long as it kept him out of the lobby on some particularly bad days. That was the task he chose the day after the Tribute Parade, when the entire city seemed to talk of nothing else but the tributes from District Twelve. The whole damn thing hadn’t even started yet and he was already tired of it.

He finished with the inventory near the end of the work day, then approached Charlie at the counter with a checklist.

“I think we need to order more stuff before the Games start. I know we have a full stock, but you still remember the 71st, right?”

“Ugh, I do. I’ll see what I can do”. Charlie took the list off his hands and, raising his head for the first time, Castiel noticed they weren’t alone at the store. Someone was standing by the shelves. The person, a man, walked to the doors as if going to leave, then changed his mind and went back to observing the shelves. It was odd and Castiel frowned.

“Did you attend him?” He asked in a whisper.

“Not really,” Charlie replied, mimicking his low voice. “He’s been acting weird since he entered, tried to leave about half a dozen times but always came back. I thought it would be best if he was left alone, maybe he needs time alone to choose or something.”

“Well, we are closing, so he better make up his mind soon. I will see if I can help.”

Castiel left the counter and walked over to the stranger. And he was strange, Castiel could tell that just looking at the man from behind. His clothes were worn down and very simple, both in fabric and color, and that alone could set someone apart in a crowd in the Capitol. The hair, sporting a short and simple cut, had a natural color, again something unusual. When Castiel finally faced the stranger, all those details seemed to fall into place.

It was the man from the reaping party the night before.

Though their encounter had been brief, Castiel never forgot a face, much less one as handsome as that. He wondered if him being at the store was a strike of luck or intentional.

“Hello.”

“Castiel.”

Intentional. Definitely intentional.

“Yes, that’s me. Castiel Edlund. But it is still not fair.” He recollected their last conversation sporting a soft smile, friendlier than what most of his customers received. “Looking for anything specific?”

“No, I…I was looking for you.” The man’s embarrassment was palpable as he ran a hand through his hair, making several locks spike in many different directions. “Sorry, I’d better leave.”

Castiel’s heart sank. Whatever the reasons were for the strange man to feel like that, he couldn’t guess. When they first met the night before he had had a cheeky confidence and pretty much flirted with Castiel. Right now, he seemed like a completely different person.

“There is no reason to be sorry,” Castiel spoke again, not wanting him to go away. “And since you only just found me, it would be strange for you to leave now: another reason not to leave.”

That seemed to help a bit, as he stuck his hands inside his pockets and gave Castiel a long look. Now that they were in daylight and far from obnoxious Capitol people, Castiel could tell there was more to this man other than the simple clothes that distinguished him. His had a light tan and few tiny scars between his freckles. His genes seemed to be the sole reason of his naturally good looks, not plastic surgeries. He continued to be a mystery to Castiel, and he was eager to know more about him.

Before he could respond or Castiel could say anything else, Charlie passed them on her way to the doors.

“Bye, Cassie. See you tomorrow!”

“Goodbye, Charlie.”

And then they were alone. Castiel feared the man would be even more nervous now, but he was wrong. He visibly relaxed, though still seemed a bit confused, and even attempted to smile at Castiel, what formed soft dimples in his cheeks.

“So… How are you doing?”

“I am good, thank you. A bit busy, but this is not unusual these days…” Yeah, because the Games always leave people thirsty for alcohol, Castiel thought. But he didn’t want to talk about the Games, not now, and he knew the man also didn’t appreciate the event. “I guess maybe Garth told you who I was.”

“Oh, yeah. In his defence, it was an accident, he just let it slip. And I’ll tell you my name before you can go ahead and ask him. I’m Dean. Dean Winchester. Nice to meet you, again.”

“Dean.”

Just a flick of the tongue was enough to pronounce the name. It was different, Castiel had never met someone named Dean before, and there was something almost exotic about it, as if it came from old times no one alive could remember. Castiel couldn’t stop himself from saying it again.

“Dean. Nice to meet you properly. I still do not understand why you felt the need to hide your name.”

The compliment seemed to disarm Dean, and his hand went to his hair again as he sheepishly looked away.

“I had just met you, I didn't know you very well. It felt safer to give you a fake name in case you were, I don't know, an infiltrated spy.”

“And how do you know that I am not?”

“I… I have a strong feeling that you're not.”

Castiel had to smile at that.

“So, this is your store: Wine Heaven.” Dean paced in front of the shelves, observing the labels in the bottles and their price tags. “Prices are pretty heavenly.”

Castiel couldn’t reply to that and remained silent just letting a guilty feeling settle in the pit of his stomach. He itched to tell Dean he wasn’t a greedy capitalist just relishing in a pile of easy earned money, but had to set prices as high as other stores to not draw attention, which could be potentially problematic. But he just couldn't. As Dean said, they had just met. For all Castiel knew, _Dean_ could be the infiltrated spy, although he also had the strong feeling that wasn’t the case.

While Dean observed the shelves, two peacekeepers passed in front of the store, patrolling the streets. They had a much less brutal function in the Capitol, acting mostly as watchers on the streets, instead of actual law enforcers as they were used in the districts, especially the poorer ones. But their mere passing served to make Dean nervous again, so much that Castiel noticed instantly. He stood up straight and stared through the glass windows with prowling eyes long after they were gone. Castiel turned to look too, and was puzzled as to why he reacted so intensely since the after hours peacekeeper street patrol wasn’t uncommon.

“I have to go now,” Dean stated, deadpan.

“Oh, you c-”

“I’m sorry, I have to go, Castiel.” Still talking, Dean started to walk to the doors.

“Wait, Dean.” That made him stop. “Come back tomorrow by 5pm. There is a coffee shop on the next block, and we can talk better.”

Did Castiel just invited this stranger to a date? Castiel, who could count all romantic interests in just one finger, setting a date with someone he met not 24 hours ago? He most certainly did.

Dean was _different_.

Dean wasn’t April, who selfishly sought comfort and pleasure in Castiel’s arms just to stab him in the back and leave him for someone else. Castiel wanted, no, he _needed_ to know Dean better.

For his utmost surprise, Dean smiled and nodded.

“It’s a date.”


	4. Good Intentions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the chapters are Dean or Cas, but we opted for few outside viewers of their relationship. Here we have our beloved Benny.

 

It wasn’t that Benny was against or in favor of the Hunger Games, he just… tried very hard not to think about it. He had no one waiting for him in the District Four or someone to lose to the Games. He was just living a life without trouble in the Capitol, so no complaints. He was a private driver, the riches would call him here and there to take them places.

As it was time for the Hunger Games, he had a tight schedule with so many events, but of course, he had time for his friend, Dean; he always would. Last time they talked, when Benny lent his tie to Dean, his friend told him he’d give it back a day after the parade, around 6PM.

Dean was a little late, that was unusual for him, but Benny tried to not worry about it. Despite his friend being a little headstrong and rough around the edges, he believed Dean wouldn’t get into any trouble. And Benny also knew the extent of the damage caused by the Games in Dean’s family. But he waited, blindingly watching some crap on the big screen.

Some fast and clearly urgent knocks hit his door. He opened to find a grinning Dean facing him. For a moment, Benny thought Dean would hug him to death but his friend just smiled wider and entered the apartment not waiting for an invitation.

“Here’s your tie, Mr. Butler. Thank you very, very much.” Dean said, resting a small box over Benny’s table. “You said I’d get lucky with it and hell yeah, I did get lucky.”

“Did ya, uh?” Benny’s voice remained calm and low, like usual. “Gotcha a lucky lady for yourself?”

“If he’s lucky, I don’t know. But I definitely am.”

“You’re still glowing, must’ve been a hell of a night, brother.”

“You wouldn’t guess even if you tried very hard.” Dean laughed and threw himself on the couch. It’s been awhile since Benny last saw Dean that happy and specially during the Games. “I have a date.” Dean paused, thinking. “Yeah, definitely a date.”

“A date? Who dates in the Capitol?”

“You mean, who would date someone from Four? That’s the problem. He doesn’t know I’m not from the Capitol.”

Benny chose to remain in silence as he couldn’t add anything helpful to that information. He didn’t like to go around giving advice about things when he didn’t know even half of the story. While Dean clearly organized all the information inside in his head, Benny made them some coffee.

“Coffee, good.” Dean sipped the coffee without hesitation. “Benny, I think he’s like... Different or something. I mean, I think he hates the Games too.”

“Gotta be honest, that doesn’t sound right.”

“I know, I know. He owns this liquor store and...”

“Is he Mr. Regan? Mr. Galloway? Mr. Edlund?”

“Edlund, that one. Castiel Edlund. There’s that many liquor stores in the Capitol?”

“Not really, Mr. Edlund owns the largest and most famous. Then, there’s Mr. Galloway’s and the other one sells a bit of liquor but other stuff too.”

“Do you know him? Castiel?” The voice exited low from Dean’s mouth, doubt and curiosity filling every word. That was important for Dean.

“Know know him, no, I don’t know him.” Benny said, resting against the wall in front of Dean. “Drove him here and there sometimes. Leaves parties early. Always alone. Tips well.”

“Does he know your name?”

Benny closed his eyes for a second trying to remember the last time he drove Mr. Edlund somewhere. It was a few months ago. Mr. Edlund wasn’t a chatter but he was polite and yeah, remembered his name from other times.

“I didn’t pay much attention but he calls me ‘Mr. Lafitte’, yeah. How on Earth did you get a date with that guy?”

“Well, I mean, I- he-he-” Dean cleared his throat and drank his coffee. “I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong, Dean? You never got shy ‘bout a hookup before.”

“Well, it’s not a hookup, you know, it’s a date. It’s different.”

Benny knew Dean for awhile. He was a romantic who’d never admit it. He never needed to admit it anyways, always buried in work, never having time for something serious. It even surprised Benny how they ended up friends, Dean was really nice to him from the beginning, in fact.

“Benny, I know it sounds crazy. I thought so, too. Today, all day I was telling myself that I was seeing things that weren’t there. That I was…feeling stuff that wasn’t real. Then, I decided to go to his shop before coming here just to see him again and end all this crazy shit going on in my head, but you know what? I wasn’t wrong. He’s awesome. And handsome. And has that way, you know, he’s sexy but he’s not trying to, you know?”

“I wouldn’t know, no.”

“But it’s a thing. And Castiel has it.”

He observed Dean. That grin was still on his face, it was very sincere, Benny knew it. Dean’s face was a little flushed, too, he probably didn’t want to share as much as he did. It was clear as air that Dean was very into this guy. Sometimes Benny joked that if Dean was smart enough he could easily marry one of the Capitol girls and have all the money he needed, but he always said that was too dangerous for his family, no one brought from the districts was supposed to have fun in the Capitol. Apparently, it was different with Mr. Edlund.

“I’m happy for you, Dean.”

“You are? Don’t you think this is nuts?”

“Oh, I do.” Benny would never lie to Dean. “But, brother, what the hell? How many people you meet in life that leave you like this? You chat and you blush and you want more. Go get more. What you have to lose?”

Suddenly, Dean closed himself and Benny knew he had hit a no-no spot. “You know what I have to lose.”

“Come on, Dean. You haven’t talked to your family in more than a year, you don’t even know if Lucifer is even up with his part of the deal.”

“Alright, what should I do, then? Risk it?” Dean stood up and put his empty mug on the table. “It’s family, Benny. We don’t leave family behind.”

“Yeah, tell your brother that.” As soon as Benny spoke the word ‘brother’ he knew it was the wrong move. Soon he had Dean in front of him with one finger to his face.

“You do NOT bring my brother into this.”

“I’m sorry, okay, sorry. It’s just- you don’t, I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry okay?”

Dean let him go, but not before giving Benny a sharp stare. “You’re a good friend, don’t mess things up, man.”

“Okay! I won’t. I’m sorry. I’m happy for you. You could use some snuggy and kissy.”

“Shut up.”

Both men smiled. Benny enjoyed having Dean as a friend, it was as honest as a friendship in the Capitol could be. However, it was time for Benny to start the preparations for one more night of work and Dean knew that. He hugged his friend as a goodbye.

“Good luck, Dean.” Benny said in pure honesty. May the odds be ever in his favor.

 


	5. Regarding Dean

 

In Dean’s routine, it was usual to have nights with no sleep at all. Sometimes, he spent them imagining what was happening with his father and uncle. Or if Lucifer was or wasn’t complying with their deal. But during the night after Dean’s meeting with Castiel at the liquor store, also the night before their coffee date, his sleep decided to enter on strike and his imagination started to work harder. Multiple scenarios of how the date would go and how would it end.

At some point, Dean started to sweat and he had to take another shower. He laid in bed only in boxer briefs, wondering if Castiel would be as nervous as Dean was. He finally decided that probably not because, after all, Dean was the one hiding something, not Castiel. Right? With the thought that he could do nothing but wait for the time to their coffee date to come, Dean finally rested for a couple of hours.

The problem was: with the Tribute’s training for the Hunger Games, Dean had an even lighter schedule compared to his work at Lucifer’s bakery, allowing him to think about the man despite his clear orders to his mind to keep Castiel away. Castiel. Castiel.

Eventually, Dean convinced himself that his encounter with Castiel would be their last. That way, if there were another date, he would have more than he’d hoped. Dean let himself daydream about Castiel before everything went back to normal. Letting his mind wander like that was nothing of his usual self, but this wasn’t an usual situation, so fuck it!

His mind did a good job when it came to thinking about Castiel while he worked; Dean imagined Castiel hating the Games and being nothing like the Capitol people. He imagined them talking about how weird was the culture they lived in. There was also a scene where he tells Castiel about some fun stories about his childhood. He would tell him about his brother and how much he missed him and how he missed his parents and District Four. Dean daydreamed about telling Castiel all his secrets, even the silly ones.

“Hey there, are you okay, boy?”

The question woke Dean to reality. Usually people didn’t talk to him during the Games because most of the workers were Avoxes, someone that had their tongue cut because they did something against the Capitol, or people just assumed he was one too. Though Dean knew that voice from other Games.

“Mr. Odair.”

Finnick Odair was the winner of the 65th Hunger Games, born and raised in the District Four. Dean still remembered when the man - back then, only a boy - won it. There was this peculiar mix between horror and hope in the District. Since his victory, he became a mentor to the new tributes from their District. Somehow, Finnick had this soft though sharp smile and words that could comfort and confront anyone at the same time. Every time they met, they exchanged polite words of flirtation but they would never go any further.

“Drop the last name, you know you can call me Finnick.” The man walked around the kitchen, probably choosing something to pick up. “Winchester, right?”

Dean smiled because they did this same dance every year. “Yes, Dean Winchester.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember you. I remember your brother.”

“Well, half brother, sir.”

“Drop the ‘sir’, we’re much more alike than you think.”

While they talked, Finnick picked up an apple - despite the place being full of pastries - and leaned against one of the many counters. The kitchen, in which Dean worked during the Games, was exclusive for bakers, but was divided in three parts so he and two more head bakers working there wouldn’t meet. Each baker had two assistants - both avoxes - to help them out. Dean knew for a fact that the other two bakers barely put their hands on food and Dean’s avoxes (Dean hated to think about them like that, but well...it was the truth) were usually working with them, leaving Dean alone on his part of the kitchen. In his opinion, it was much better. He would never give up the chance to bake something with his own hands and he honestly didn’t need that much help.

“Can I help you with something, Mr. Odair?”

“Well, Mr. Dean Winchester, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t matter what you tell me, it will be interesting.”

“I’m not sure, pretty boring life...”

“And yet we all have secrets, don’t we?”

Dean, who had stopped working on the decoration of dozen of cronuts as soon as Finnick arrived, cleaned his hands with a towel and stared at Finnick for a couple of seconds. Did he know something? It didn’t take many conversations with Finnick Odair to make Dean notice that the victor knew a lot about a bunch of people. Dean wondered if he knew something about him or even maybe about Castiel.

“Is your brother, Sam Winchester, still okay? Happily ever after at home?”

“Yes,” Dean answers hoarsely. “as good as last year.”

“Right.”

Behind that word, there was something that Dean interpreted as disbelief but he didn’t push it. Of course Dean was lying, it had been years since Sam was ‘happily ever after’ at home.

“Can I give you advice, Dean?” Finnick understood the silence as compliance and continued. “Omit and lie are different things but equally bad.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that bad things happen, but you can choose wisely who you share the knowledge you obtain with.”

“I don’t-”

“You worry too much, Dean. I hope Lucifer is not being too mean to you, however, I doubt that. You’re a good baker. You’re a good kid, my boy.”

The mentor insisted on calling Dean ‘boy’ despite of him being younger. It used to weaken the baker’s knees, but now: nothing. The sea-green eyes that usually made him remember home, did nothing more than make Dean remember where the blue sky met the sea. Blue now was a much more interesting color.

As sudden Finnick appeared in the kitchen he disappeared, probably while Dean was drowned in those memories of Castiel’s blue eyes. The mentor’s words about sharing, were drumming inside Dean’s mind, jumping here and there about if he should tell Castiel he’s from Four or not.

The rest of the day passed painfully slow and yet, surprisingly full of expectation, as if Castiel was going to randomly appear in his kitchen. That was crazy, almost no one from the Upper Class went to the kitchen, even during the Hunger Games. Still, everywhere he looked, he was reminded of blue eyed man. When he met new people here to help with the influx of orders, he thought, no one was as interesting as Castiel. He saw a Capitol citizen wearing blue lenses...his natural blue eyes were way more beautiful. Someone carrying a bottle of liquor passed by the shop- Was it bought at Wine’s Heaven?

And with a mind busy with thoughts like those, 5 pm arrived, time for Dean to get his shit together and meet Castiel for their coffee.

There wasn’t enough time to go home and shower, so he headed directly to Wine Heaven. Honestly, it felt weird to be in front of Castiel’s store wearing a simple pair of jeans and a plaid shirt, but that was all he could offer. As he opened the door, he was nervous as the day before. For a moment, Dean considered leaving, even though he had faced worst situations in life. What worse could happen? He heading home alone, which was his constant state, probably miserable and with his faith lost in the Capitol. The usual.

The sight of Castiel made him feel the controversial mixture of lightness and tightness, fingertips sweating in anticipation. It didn’t take long before Castiel noticed Dean, acknowledging him with a tiny nod. He was by one of the shelves, talking to another man. While the two of them talked, Dean observed some of the liquor’s labels with fake interest.

“Hello, Dean.”

The sudden greeting startled Dean and when he turned, Castiel was only a few inches in front of him. “Sorry.” Castiel apologized, taking one step back.

“No problem.”

A tiny smile came to Castiel’s face and Dean realised at that very moment, that whatever happened he wouldn’t be ready for it. However, he wanted it… He wanted whatever it was.

As in any new situation, especially when he had not much control where things could go, Dean was a little uncomfortable. Everything he over thought since their last meeting was running around his mind again, but Dean was fighting everything with much effort because the decision was made: he was going to tell Castiel the truth. How? He didn’t know.

During their short walk, until they got to the coffee shop, only a block away from Castiel’s store, Dean tried to pay attention to new details of the other man now in sunlight. He failed miserably because as soon as they started taking few steps, Castiel started to touch his own hair until he left it in a sophisticated mess, very different from the style he wore during the night they first met.

It was only when they entered the shop that Dean realised they haven’t talked and probably he was staring at Castiel like a weirdo. They looked at each other and went to the back without the need to word the decision.

Castiel was the one to break the silence. “This is a nice shop, I tend to come here sometimes after a difficult day of work. The pie is great.”

 _The pie is great_. Castiel… Castiel... “I better try it, then.”

The prices were a bit higher than what Dean had pictured. He tried not to spend much money and send as much as possible to his family at home. Castiel probably noticed Dean’s worries.

“You know how prices are, they overcharge everything. But in a way I do the same, so I cannot say much…”

Lines like those reminded Dean how different they were and at the same time reaffirmed how much Dean needed to tell Castiel the truth. It should end fast. A waitress arrived and seemed to know Castiel, but they didn’t share nothing more than a brief nod. Castiel ordered first.

“Coffee, no milk. And a slice of pecan pie.”

“I... I’ll go with coffee, black coffee.” His eyes rolled through the menu. He could bake most of the pies and muffins, it seemed unfair the need to buy.

“The apple pie is good, too.” Castiel suggests with a low voice, still a bit hoarse.

“Apple pie for me, then, miss.”

Dean smiled to the woman, who smiled back shyly. Soon, he was again observing Castiel. The man in front of him gave a sympathetic smile.

“You were very nice with the attendant.”

“Well, not everyone has the opportunity to not be the attendant.”

“That is something odd to say.” Even though the words represented oddness, Castiel seemed to be satisfied with Dean’s comment. “Are you this nice with everyone, Dean?”

“Until they prove me wrong. But I don’t eat pie with all of them.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Jealous type, huh ,Castiel?”

“I’m not.” There was a pause while Castiel looked to a random spot on the ceiling, “... Sometimes.”

His honesty surprised Dean but it also made him decide he should be honest withCastiel as soon as possible. Their orders arrived and the first thing Castiel did was eat a piece of his pie. He closed his eyes and tasted the food with nothing but pleasure, even letting a low and soft moan escape.

Okay, Dean needed that.

“Well, Castiel, I’m gonna be straight with you. I’ll say what I have to say, and if you want me to leave, I can go, okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel went for his coffee, sipping it slowly. “But don’t feel obliged to tell me anything you are not comfortable with. I’d rather not know something than knowing that you lied.”

“Thanks, it’s just… I have to tell you. Remember, if you need, at anytime, just you tell me and I leave. Just say the word.” Dean hesitated for a moment but a deep breath calmed him down. “I’m not from here, and maybe you’ve noticed this already. I know Capitol people enough to realize they don’t like outsiders, and anyway, here I am.” He paused for a few seconds to make sure no one was around them. “I made a deal with my current boss to help my family. I’m nothing like the Capitol.”

To Dean’s surprise, he wasn’t nervous anymore. Castiel showed him nothing but understanding about everything so far. And he was not surprised again to see a bit of confusion but mostly realization in Castiel’s countenance. His reply came soon after.

“I’m not leaving,” Castiel paused, clearly analyzing Dean while he absorbed the new information. “Which District?”

“Four. Been here for five years now, went back only once.”

There was a nod of acknowledgement and Castiel was back to the pie, not making further questions and neither backing down. He was definitely different from every Capitol citizen Dean had met so far and also from a good amount of people from Four.

“But you’re not like the people from here, too.”

“No, I am not. My grandmother practically raised me and we shared the same thoughts about the Capitol. She was from District One and won the 17th edition of the Hunger Games.”

“Fuck, she won the Games?” Dean was honestly surprised but somehow very proud of Castiel’s grandmother. “She must be a brave woman.”

“Yes, she was. The best person I have ever known.”

Dean was graced with a smile from Castiel which he returned promptly. Usually, Dean avoided discussing any topic about the Games but the empathy he felt for Castiel, among other things, was strong.

“My half brother, Adam, was the male tribute in the 66th, but he didn’t make it. He was only fourteen.”

“Were you close to him?”

“Not much. He was closer to my brother, actually.”

“What is your brother’s age? Can he still be in the Games?”

“He’s twenty three. I haven’t seen him in years.” Dean lowered his eyes to the untouched pie in front of him. There were still some boundaries about what he could share and talk about. “Could we not talk about this?”

“Sure, Dean, no problem.”

“Great, so… I’m a baker.”

“Really, a baker? That sounds like an interesting profession. Why don’t you eat the pie and tell me if it’s good or not?”

The first thing that came to Dean’s mind was how he appreciated the way Castiel managed a conversation. It came probably from his selling abilities, but it was still very comforting.

The pie looked appealing and Dean tried it without hesitation. It was a full fork of food that filled his mouth. With slow movements he tasted it, just to confirm what he had guessed.

“Good, but I can do better.” Dean smiled and blinked in a charming way to Castiel. “Yours looks a bit better than mine, actually.”

“This is pretty good, I’m afraid if you try it you’ll have to retire from the bakery business.”

That was an actual joke from Castiel and Dean decided to go with it. “Mine is one hundred percent better, I’m positive.”

“But if it is not, you’ve got to run away and hide from the shame.”

“It’s not better than mine, Castiel, trust me.”

“Alright, but if you try and you disappear I will hunt you down just to tell you I told you so.”

“Shut up!”

“Just try it, will you?”

Instead of getting a new fork or offering Dean his plate, Castiel got himself a small piece with his own fork and offered it directly into Dean’s mouth, who didn’t give a second thought before closing his lips around the silverware. It seemed that Castiel only realized what he did after it was done.

“I am sorry,” he said retrieving the fork. “That was highly inappropriate.”

“Mine’s better,” Dean spoke with his mouth full, ignoring Castiel’s apologies.

“Now, how can I believe you?”

“You have to try mine and… that’s just it. You try, you compare. Mine’s better.”

“Alright.”

“Alright. I can bake you something someday, if it’s not too... Weird… Do you have a problem with hanging out with someone from a district?”

“You already know I don’t, Dean.” Smiling, Castiel started to eat his pie again. Dean did the same, not forgetting the coffee this time. “If you do not mind me asking, is your deal with the Capitol working?”

Before answering the question, Dean allowed himself to be quiet for a moment while he sipped his coffee and thought. Their last five minutes together felt like a rollercoaster of events and emotions. Everything felt so different, Dean was lighter, free from Castiel’s judgement and from the weight on his shoulders full of expectation of rejection. However, in other ways some things didn’t change. Castiel still gave Dean his full attention, same as when they first met. The shade of his eyes was still the most perfect blue Dean had ever seen, always searching something into Dean’s own eyes. The familiar curiosity was still there, telling Dean how much of Castiel there was still to be learnt.

It was instigating. It was exciting.

“My deal is: I work here and my family gets food. It’s working as far as I know.”

Castiel listened carefully. “Can you go visit them?”

“It’s been years. Lucifer is always ‘after the Games I let you go’ but when the time goes and I’m swallowed back into the bakery and then the new Games are in the corner again.”

Castiel’s coffee was gone as well as his pie. “The Games shake things that much at the bakery?”

They had fully expressed to the other their disgust for the Games at some point so far and that made Dean a bit nervous about sharing his current gig.

“I work for the Games when they happen. It’s a deal made between Lucifer and the Games’ creators, not really up to me. I work with two more head bakers.”

The statement made Castiel’s eyebrows go up, but no comments followed. Dean finished his own pie and coffee before Castiel spoke again.

“Lucifer is no piece of cake, I have met him a couple of times. It must be really difficult to work for him.”

The sympathy in Castiel’s voice altogether with the lack of judgment made Dean reach for Castiel’s hand and give it a soft squeeze as a thank you. He quickly withdrew his hand after, not giving Castiel the chance to accept nor reject the act.

Each of them paid for their own food and coffee, which Dean was glad because he didn’t have much money to spend on things like that, even though he would have paid without hesitation, if it was needed. Dean decided to walk Castiel back to the store, where there were still things to be done, according to Castiel. They walked slow, both trying to delay their departure to their own paths.

“This is nice. It has been quite awhile since I was able to share some of myself with someone.” Castiel said in a low voice, despite the fact of them being practically alone.

“Me too. It's a lot of work here but it’s lonely, too.”

“You must miss your family terribly.”

“Not much, actually. Got used to.”

At least Dean thought he did. He tried to ignore the numerous nights when he laid in bed thinking and imagining how things could be different if this or that happened, if Mom had not died, if he had found a way to help Dad, he had stayed in Four or if… But those were only ifs, and none of them were his reality. Despite the attempts to stretch their walk, they got to the store sooner than intended.

“I wish to see you again, Dean.”

“Me too.”

“Tomorrow I close the store around the time you arrived today. Maybe you can help me with some boxes I have to take home.”

“Deal. I’ll see you tomorrow, Castiel.”

They both knew it wouldn’t be wise to continue to talk too long in front of the store. Though they technically didn’t do anything wrong or against any rules, the Capitol just had a terrible habit of misunderstanding harmless action as acts of defiance, and could easily see two people - one, a foreigner - simply chatting as traitors plotting an uprising. Neither wanted that kind of trouble, and so they parted.

 


	6. Abandon All Hope...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At last, Fergus finally showed up!

 

Dean Winchester was mute for three days now. No complaints. No angry visits. Crowley knew he was in the wrong, ditching on Dean at the event but it didn’t mean he cared.

However, after all, the Winchester was the closest of a friend he had. Whatever. He should check if the baker was alive. For the old times, when they went to parties and events together and have real fun. Good old times.

To Crowley’s surprise, Dean wasn’t home. It had never happened before, Dean had no social life and it was Games’ time, in other words, time for the man to drown himself in depressing thoughts and close himself to the world.

Maybe, he was still at the Game’s complex, buried in work. It was a possibility. Crowley decided to wait for a little while.

After about 10 minutes - but felt like a full hour - the elevator arrived and with it a tune of whistle. The origin of the sound, for Crowley’s surprise, was Dean Winchester.

“Winchester.”

The sound of Dean’s last name called his attention. “Heya, Fergus. What you’re doing here?”

It’s Crowley. Crowley. He swallowed the use of his first name, ignoring it for now. “What are you doing?”

“I’m getting home, you know I live here.” Dean passed by Crowley and opened the door, leaving it open so his friend could come in. “Man, what happened to that party? You didn’t show up.”

He closed the door behind him. Ugh, Dean’s apartment was too… blank. Basically all of his furniture - not that he had many - was white, matching the colorless walls. He could basically see all the rooms from the front door, such a small apartment. He knew Lucifer didn’t pay much but it sure was enough to bank a better place. But Dean never shared what he did with the extra money, it didn’t matter how well Crowley tried to persuade him.

“Will it make any difference if I tell you?”

“Not really.” There wasn’t even a hint of anger in Dean’s voice. Odd.

“Dean, what is going on?”

“I met someone there.”

Great! Maybe the old and fun Dean Winchester was back. It had been at least a year since Crowley heard of Dean being with someone and maybe two or three years since the baker was with someone purely for fun.

“Oh! She must be a good one to bring back the old and fun Dean Winchester. Or him, you do both, right?”

“Goddamnit, Fergus, don’t say it like it’s something, I don’t know, mechanic.”

CROWLEY, it’s fuckin’ Crowley.

“Well, and isn’t it?”

“Maybe not this time.”

Not much can silence Fergus Crowley and only when Dean made it clear that the old and fun Winchester wasn’t coming back was when Crowley realized how much he had hoped that to be true in so little time. He obliged himself to say something.

“There’s no such thing for districters like us. Are you out of your mind?”

“Maybe.” he freaking smiled at Crowley. “They make me feel good.”

Suddenly, the careful choice to not use a gender pronoun made Crowley realize what it was all about. “It’s a capitol, isn’t it? And you are protecting it!”

Dean eyed Crowley, who still was in front of the door, with a disgusted look. “Stop calling people ‘it’, Fergus.”

“It’s Crowley! Stop calling me ‘Fergus’!”

“It’s your fucking name! And if I want to date someone from the Capitol, it’s not even an inch of your damn business.”

Date. “Are you bloody serious? They ripped us from our districts, made our families work to death to end up hungry, anyways! Then, all of their hard work is sent to the Capitol and wasted in so many ways we can’t even imagine!”

“I know. I know. But it’s different…”

“It’s never different, Dean.”

“Oh, well, how come me dating is wrong and you going to their parties and literally fucking them is right, uh?”

Dean was angry now. Crowley liked angry Dean because angry Dean was raw with his actions. “They deserve it. You remember back then? When you, too, fucked them because they needed to be fucked, because they deserved it? You drink their alcohol, eat their food, and fuck their pussies and asses. Then, you come home, work like a slave and do it all again.”

Dean’s face frowned and he took a step away, being even further from Crowley than before. “Uh, Fergus, you are so sick sometimes.”

“Alright.” Crowley ran his hand over his face trying to calm down. “Lets say your dating goes well, right? Will they truly accept to date some random Panem dude who came from one of the districts? Because the way you’re telling me, is that you want something serious, am I wrong? Are you taking them here? Your apartment is so small, they won’t be comfortable here, they won’t want to come here. Or are you going to take your boy or girl to date dinners that they will always have to pay for? Everybody will know you became a Capitol puppet or wait, even worse, will your lover want to hide you? You are going to be their dirty little secret, Dean Winchester.”

Finally, finally, Dean was silent.

“I want what is best for you, Dean.”

“You have a weird way of showing your worry.”

“Dating capitolites is not good. It’s doom. It just can’t end well.” Crowley took a few steps towards Dean, who turned his back to his friend, face in hands. “We, from the districts, have to stick together. They don’t know how it is to live over there. They only see our tributes and if they win they become heroes to these people. But we know they’re not.”

“But it’s-” Dean stopped and took a deep breath.

“Oh, Dean.” Crowley rested one hand on his friend’s shoulder.

The right thing to do was probably to stay and help Dean to figure out what he was going to do next. Offer a friendly shoulder, Dean needed one for sure. But even though Crowley believed in being a good friend and wanted only the best for Dean, he just wasn’t that kind of friend. He patted Dean’s shoulder and exited the cold and empty apartment.

 


	7. 99 Problems

 

As soon as Fergus left his apartment, he felt the loneliness fill him, fill every inch of his body. Somehow, it ached from his ears to the tip of his toes. Dean knew that it wasn’t loneliness alone, it was also all the hope he dared to have just crushed by Fergus. Behind his stupid and rude words, there was nothing but the truth.

But Dean knew that already, didn’t he? So why was it breaking him? Him and Castiel… They were still nothing to each other, barely friends. So why?

It was only in the shower when Dean realized what maybe was wrong. The hope wasn’t a sentiment alone either, it always came with excitement, fun and the most obvious: happiness. And he was definitely happy before.

He spent extra time under the water and also in front of the mirror, just staring at himself trying to decide what was the best thing to do. He had driven that road before, one or two days ago. The balancing of things.

Already in bed, unable to sleep, Dean tried to focus on what he told himself back then about that matter.

‘Enjoy while you can’ was this first thought and it was as sad as doing nothing, as if he had already accepted that everything was going to go wrong and that was exactly what he wanted to avoid.

‘Castiel is different’ was next. This image was much better because it came with Castiel face, too. As usual, his eyes came first, same in every moment and situations they’ve experienced together. A puzzle that Dean had an urge to solve. He wanted to so bad.

Yeah, that was a better image.

Now that he knew what he was feeling, he could ignore it. Easier said than done. The realization wasn’t good enough to calm Dean’s nerves down and allow him to sleep. At some point, his brain stopped processing at a normal speed. The time he spent pacing around his apartment could have been five minutes or maybe thirty.

His mind begged for some of the unreachable physical rest and Dean started to work out. In the dark, he did push ups and held planks far more than his arms would normally support. Finally, his brain accepted Dean’s wishes and just stopped to send random thoughts and let the body work automatically. Between exercises, Dean slept on the floor, in the middle of his apartment.

Despite of the tiredness and lack of sleep, Dean woke up in time to go to work. He took a quick shower and skipped shaving. Of course, the stubble on his face wasn’t what his superiors would want but that was his third time working in the Games and the only person ever to visit him there was Finnick and he did that already this year. So, fuck it!

If there was something Dean Winchester was honestly passionate about, it was baking. And if Dean could not ignore the constant waves of thoughts and feelings, he could bury himself in work. As usual, he let his assistants work for the other two bakers and started making delicious goods all day long.

Baking reminded him of good things from his district. His uncle Bobby, who still owned a bakery in their neighborhood, taught Dean everything he knew. It was because of him that Dean was such a perfectionist with his job. Coming to the Capitol taught him so many different techniques with so many different ingredients, Dean only wished to be able to one day show them to Bobby.

Dean loved to cook people things. Some of his dearest memories from childhood were at Bobby’s Bakery with Sam. It was rare when they did have something to eat, but when they could, Dean would always choose pie; it didn’t matter the flavor, but it would always be pie. Sam liked to try different things and Dean couldn’t remember him asking for the same thing or flavor twice. Now that Dean could bake infinite kinds of pastries with diverse types of flavors, he wished he could let Sam try all of them. In contrast to what would usually happen, thinking about Sam relaxed him. The perspective of making his brother happy, which in return made himself happy.

Time to leave came and Dean barely noticed. Cooking made him lighter and also organized his line of thoughts. Facing Castiel didn’t scare him anymore. Dean came to the conclusion that he had the chance to bake Castiel things and he shouldn’t waste this chance.

 

 

Castiel didn’t shave and that was the first thing Dean noticed. He didn’t have a perfectly smooth face like in that party; there was a shadow of what would be a nice scruff in the next day. He was so different from the party and yet the same. It was clear that Castiel was being conscious with his words and act, however with simple words Dean could identify the same personality that caught his attention.

Castiel was just as polite as before, rather comfortable in Dean’s presence. But before they leave the store, Castiel showed the place around to Dean. Of course, Dean had an interest in the drinks, liquors, and wine. However, Castiel’s way with words and how he moved around the store was simply fascinating. That was probably the first time he saw the man rather comfortable - only the two of them in a safe place. No one to judge. No one to expect anything from them. Yeah, Dean could work with that.

On their way to Castiel’s, they talked more about their jobs and their friends – or lack of them. In a way, they seem to live the same life but in different ways. Both adapted in an environment they didn’t belong, although stuck in it.

Dean was smiling not because he was flirting – okay, perhaps he was flirting a little, just maybe – but the smile was the response of his body to the easy and fluid conversation between him and Castiel. Intriguing and smart. Mystery and elucidation.

That lasted a few blocks between Castiel’s store and his house. Its facade was stunning. An old construction but very well conserved, wealth emanating from every corner and well thought details. Somewhere Dean didn’t belong.

Fergus’ words didn’t come back to his mind, but the feeling of dread at everything that could go wrong with whatever was happening between them was filling him. Dean suddenly became quiet. Castiel didn’t seem to notice at first and just continued to talk.

“Even though it is rather close to the commercial area, it is very calm here. It’s not a very funky area, and these houses are all older. People prefer those new apartments with all the luxury… But in fact, I like here.”

The thing Castiel apparently didn’t notice was that what he considered simple compared to the ‘luxury apartment’ was still… too much. Dean was a bit lost with what to say next. “Where can I put the box?”

“You can put it by the door.” Castiel had a smile on his face but it slowly faded as he probably noticed Dean’s change of mood. “If you need to go I can put it inside later.”

“No. No problem, just tell me where to take it.”

Castiel nodded once and took from his pocket a single key, alone without keychain. It was dark inside, the heavy curtains blocked all the light from outside. Castiel turned the lights on, revealing the stairs on the foyer that only lead up. The gap on the wall on the left led to the living room with a vaulted ceiling. The furniture wasn’t fancy, but it was clearly valuable. The only thing out of place was the TV, it didn’t fit the room’s style.

“Before you ask,” Castiel interrupted Dean’s analysis of the place. “this house is from my parents. They moved to one of those fancy apartments.”

He didn’t care. Castiel still lived in a fancy and comfortable house, never really knew what was to struggle with space and hard work to maintain the cabinets with food. They were not alike. Dean just hummed in agreement, not asking further questions. Where Castiel indicated, he put the boxes. The air was heavy and both men knew there was something wrong now. Dean was more and more uncomfortable. Chest heavy, thoughts fighting for a breath and his muscles begging him to run away.

“Look, Castiel. I gotta go.”

There was no waiting and Dean walked towards the door. Castiel followed him closely, he could feel the man’s presence next to him. The blue eyes Dean liked so much still were amazing and it only made him want to escape as fast as possible.

“I am sorry about this…” Castiel’s voice was low, broken. “I should not have… I am sorry.”

“Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my bad, actually. It’s really good to talk to you. And it’s not your fault, all this,” he indicated the house, “it doesn’t change how nice you are, but it doesn’t change your house neither.”

Castiel gave a tiny nod and even one tiny smile. Then, he approached Dean and hugged him - a friendly hug full of unspoken words: sorrow, hope, care… The hug was over in a few short seconds.

“I hope someday you understand why I am still in this house. If you need someone to talk to, you can look for me at any time.”

The situation hurt and Dean knew the only way to stop that agony was leaving. Taking advantage of their closeness, Dean touched Castiel’s left cheek with his lips. The sensation of the growing beard was alien to him, being so long since he last felt such a thing. And he liked it, which didn’t help as well.

“See ‘ya, Castiel.”

Without looking back, Dean left, decided to part their paths from that moment on and not, in fact, see Castiel again.

 


	8. Wishful Thinking

 

Castiel’s and Dean’s paths didn’t cross again.

For the first time, the Hunger Games ended with two victors, Katniss and Peeta  from District Twelve, and with that, a significant change began in Panem.

There was distress in the Districts, but in the Capitol, for its citizens, all continued mostly the same. The only exposition they would get to the rebel acts would be a random, inconclusive, and obscure note on the papers or in the television, along with some visual images of the gruesome punishments they’d inflict just to add to the threat factor. And for many people, it seemed righteous, after all, the rebels were disturbing the peace many have fought to achieve.

That was all bullshit, and Castiel too often felt like one of the few people that was aware of it. Anytime they would show people chained to a whipping post being beaten until the ground was covered in blood, Castiel had a disgusted feeling in his stomach. He was accustomed to it because he had grown up seeing blatant murder during the Games, but that didn’t mean it didn’t disturb him. The Capitol people had a ridiculous tolerance for torture.

Despite that, Castiel’s life remained the same. His liquor store was selling very well, even more than before. His ‘home to shop to home again with some occasional social event’ routine rarely got sidetracked and he preferred it like that. When he was out and socializing, Castiel was forced to wear a mask to blend in with the people of the Capitol and not stand out as a freak, or worse, a rebel. He was used to that after doing it for many years. To keep a blank expression, the right words to say and when, to lie as if that was the only truth for him.

It was tiring, though. That was not his true self and often he wondered how long he would be able to keep the facade up. Sometimes, when the lies weighed on him and Castiel contemplated the loneliness he encapsulated himself into, the thought that helped him come through the other side was that he had a purpose and that he was doing something good, along with that flickering hope that things would change some day. Most of the time, it seemed like a fool’s hope, but Castiel had to hold on to it, or he feared he wouldn’t have anything left.

After Castiel’s last meeting with Dean, he thought many times about looking for the baker, but he never pursued the idea of meeting the Winchester again. Dean was from District Four; Castiel was born and raised in the Capitol. Their worlds couldn’t be more apart. If he started to look for an outsider it could raise too much suspicion and he simply couldn’t risk it.

Castiel even attended a couple of events where Garth was serving again, and countless questions formed in his mind. Where did Dean live? Would he mind if Castiel visited him? It’s been a while, was he all right? Was he even still in the Capitol? Of course, Castiel never verbalized those questions, always falling into the same excuse: he couldn’t risk it. Garth seemed to have his morals in the right place but, just like Castiel, he could be hiding all his secrets up his sleeve.

Days passed as sand running down on hourglass. Unstoppable. Unrelenting.

Then, months passed and seasons entered and ended like they always did, unchanged by the changes happening in the rest of Panem. Summer came and the Sun tanned the skin of wealthy Capitol folk, but neither of them were changed.

Castiel was.

Often, memories of the bright green eyes came back to Castiel’s mind. Most of the time, he only just indulged in reminiscing about what they talked about and the personal stuff Dean confided in him. There was that connection between them that made him feel comfortable in his company, light and almost carefree, as if his worries were temporarily lifted from his shoulders.

Other times, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to wander and remember even more. The crinkle in the corner of Dean’s eyes when he graced Castiel with a smile, or the speckled freckles on his nose as if dotted by a painter’s brush, or how soft dimples formed on his cheeks, or how the light stubble that adorned the top of his lips and his sharp jawline or how…

“Castiel? Castiel?” The woman’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts abruptly.

Shit. He was daydreaming about a man who was out of his reach, and while at the store, with customers walking about.

Castiel opened his eyes, feeling a gist of shame for letting his mind have such dirty thoughts while in such a public place. A redheaded woman was right beside him and she looked worried, not suspicious or curious.

“Cassie, you okay?”

“I am, I just felt a little dizzy. It must be the heat. I am better now, thank you, Charlie.”

Charlie continued to look worried and only nodded, “Ms. Fancy Pants over there wants that wine from D1, but there isn’t a single bottle on the shelves and I couldn’t find it at the storage, but I’m really super sure we have it cause I remember a shipment that came in not two weeks ago and…”

Castiel smiled at her, raising his open hands to soothe her nervousness. “We have it, I know exactly where it is. Keep her busy while I go get it, okay?”

He touched her shoulder, just as lightly as a feather, to let her know that it was not a problem and went away to the back of the store where the storage was.

It felt good to leave the buzz of the store, even if just for a little while, and once he was inside the storage, Castiel locked the door and rested his back against it. A moment alone, it was all he needed.

_Am I going crazy?_

The thought formed repeatedly in his mind. When did he ever think about anyone as much he’d been thinking about Dean Winchester? Never, that was the answer. No one ever made him feel like that, or think the things he had been thinking. Castiel knew his body well and the fact Dean was a man wasn’t the issue.

The issue was that Castiel was letting his heart take the lead and that was something he couldn’t allow. All his decisions were thoroughly thought out and based strongly on logic and cohesive thinking. He’d be a fool to not know he was getting attracted to Dean, but that wasn’t a decision coming from his mind. He needed to shut it down.

Castiel covered his face with both hands and breathed in and out deeply several times.

_He is gone, Castiel. Forget him._

And that was what he did.

 


	9. Family Remains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who’s better than Bobby to let us now how Dean is after not seeing Cas anymore?

 

Things were...calm. Hm. Never a good sign.

In the bakery, when stuff was ‘calm’, the sound from the river could be heard and that was why Bobby started to relate the water sound with trouble. Yeah, sure, it was the Hunger Games and the kids were all out there killing themselves and one of the perks of having his own business was being able to intentionally not have any device streaming that horror show. But the neighborhood was oddly quiet.

Then, suddenly, it appeared that everybody started to speak at once and all he could hear were voices, from all of the houses and stores around his bakery.

“What the hell?”

 

 

The City Hall was done with the stealing for the week and it was time to check on John. Of course, Bobby was too damn tired to babysit the old friend but, hell, he was family. Especially Dean, and to get to Dean, he had to deal with John Winchester. At least it was routine and Bobby could deal with that. John wouldn’t be home, not so little after the end of the Games. A quick check on the cabinet for food and drink and the mailbox for one of those rare letters from the remaining Winchester kid and that was it, Bobby would be back to the bakery in a blink.

First things first, he checked the mailbox: empty. Bobby cursed because he hasn’t heard from the boy in awhile now and the Hunger Games times were just too dangerous, didn’t matter if you had a deal with the Capitol, or not. He would only feel better when he heard from Dean.

With nothing else to do, second things second.

He used his own key to open the front door and he did it slowly that if, by any chance John was at the house, he wouldn’t even notice Bobby. Few steps in and he heard it. He heard…Dean? The Winchester kid was in his old room and seemed to be talking to someone. Only a second held Bobby from calling the boy, especially after he heard what Dean was saying.

“...more odd than the usual odd, you know. That’s a lot of odd, yeah. So, two people from Twelve won the Games last month. But I know you are a smart kid and you already got how everything is kinda shitty now because of that. I can’t even believe how Lucifer let me come back home to visit Dad and Bobby.”

Dean paused for a whole minute and Bobby didn’t move. He was fake-talking to Sam. Bobby sank against the wall, not wanting to hear the personal conversation, but not wanting to interrupt or to go away. Dean finally continued.

“‘been thinking about what you said. About the Games giving people hope and Sam, hope is the worst. Don’t worry, I’m not talking about you, I’m talking about something that happened this year in the Games. Something that happened to me. You’ll never guess, little bro.”

The house fell silent as soon as Dean stopped talking. It was a little ritual Dean used to do since Sam left, Bobby knew that. Dean would sit on the bed that used to be his, beside the bed belonged to Sam, and he would talk to his little brother as if he was still there. John once caught him and it wasn’t a nice scene to watch.

“So, it’s time for Games again and I go to one of those parties. And...” Dean started to tell the story and the urge to leave the house raised a bit, but now Bobby was kinda glad that Dean was leaving the ‘finding Sam’ obsession aside a little. He continued to listen anyway. “I meet this guy. Good looking, talking fancy and shit and he asks me stuff like he really wants to know me. He owns this liquor store- yeah, I know, cool, right? For a moment, I thought… I don’t know. I liked him. But he’s from the Capitol, owns a store and has this huge house and I can’t eat a slice from pie I baked with my own hands. We are just so different but I liked him, Sam. I really did. Alright. I still kinda like his stupid face. So lucky you’re not here, bet you’d be laughing, wouldn’t ya? But you’d love the guy. He’s smart and fun to hang out with. He doesn’t dress himself like a Christmas Tree. He’s so fucking hot. But you know what? My favorite part… The most amazing thing… Are his freaking gorgeous unbelievable blue eyes. And never tell a soul I told you this, but yeah, I’m pretty lost for those eyes.”

Now Bobbly was a little embarrassed by this stupid grin on his own face. Look at that! Dean found a decent person in that insane zoo! Of course, the idjit had to fuck everything up but hey, that was something already.

“I just wish I could tell you all this in person, little brother. I hope your stubborn ass is safe. I’ll take care of myself and Dad and Bobby, like you asked me to. I’m sending them money...”

Balls! _That_ was something Bobby wouldn’t stand for. Shit wasn’t easy and the City Hall was always taking most part of the bakery’s profits from Bobby, but they’d live. He wasn’t Dean’s responsibility. Dean probably heard his steps as he got closer to the bedroom because he didn’t speak anymore. And standing between the two single beds, there was Dean, healthy and strong, just like when he last saw the boy few years back.

“You heard me?” He asked and Bobby remained in silence, still the best communication between him and any Winchester. “How much?”

“‘bout you needing to help me and your dad.” Bobby lied. “That’s bullshit, you know that.”

“Come on, Bobby, you know what I mean.” He sighed, visibly tired.

They remained in silence for the next minute. The mood was light though, both men not wanting to start an argument. Bobby was worried about Dean. It didn’t matter how much the boy grew up or John told him to mind his own business; Dean was not living the life he wanted to, and that worried Bobby. He had no idea what was the life Dean wanted, but living in the Capitol and working for Lucifer sure ain’t it. Not when he could be at home and have a fair job at Bobby’s Bakery. But maybe he was back to stay.

“Are you here to stay?” Dean remained silent, facing his own shoes like he used to do with John when everybody was younger. “Shit is hittin’ the fan with the last Games and all. It was sorta insane around here when those two kids won. Never seen Four behave like that.”

“How is that?”

“I mean everybody got dead quiet and then they were all shouting in the next minute. The kids made them change the Game rules, right? Why can’t we then? But no one really talks about it. Heard that Thomas from the market went on a ‘trip’ to other district.”

“Let me guess: his tongue slipped saying the Capitol deserved it?”

“As certain as death. His death, sure. I give one week, two weeks tops, and we get the news. Thomas from the market stepped with the wrong foot and dropped dead,” Bobby didn’t want to laugh, but he did, and he stopped in the next second. “Aren’t they trying to get rid of the District people now? That’s why they sent you?”

“I guess it’s the same. If I keep my mouth shut I’m good.” Again, Dean sighed. He might not be physically tired, but Bobby could bet his own bakery that Dean’s mind felt heavier than a mountain. Dean continued. “No one is gonna do anything to me, I’m under Lucifer’s wing, right?”

“Sure, Lucifer. I remember very well last time you came you told me he said that you’d be a great tribute, you remember? I remember. And that your life could have been better if you did volunteer when you had the chance. That is the bastard covering for you. Ain’t that difficult to see the picture, Dean. You can be anything but safe right now.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Time taught Bobby to know better and not to push Dean. Not at that moment at least.

 

 

Dean was able to stay a whole week before he was needed in the Capitol. He worked at Bobby’s Bakery everyday. Bobby was a good baker, he knew that, but the kid got the talent for baking. It didn’t even take two full days for the neighborhood to learn that there were new cakes and pastries at the bakery and it was crowded for days.

They finally heard about Thomas from the market on the day before Dean’s departure, and the guy, as they predicted, died in an odd and probably made up accident. That was the Capitol telling everyone to stay still and behave. Of course, that, in a weird and twisted way, just made Dean’s hopes about Sam’s situation turn as high as they could possibly be since the younger Winchester left District Four.

“If Sam was dead we would know! They would make sure to let us know that they won, you know how it works. I’m not giving up. He’s alive, Bobby. He’s alive. I know that.”

Bobby was trying to postpone the conversation the most he could, but Dean was about to leave and he had to tell him some shit.. Since John wasn't the best on talking to his own son, it was Bobby's job to try to help Dean with things neither knew exactly. At least, he had to let Dean know he had someone to count on.

“You know I'm the first one to believe Sam is okay. He's a tough kid, a grown man now. But Dean, remember, he left us. And he left us not to come back, you know that, we had this chat a zillion times already.”

“Why are you telling me this, again?”

“Because things are different and you have to be safe. And if you being safe means you being with that Capitol guy, you should go for it.”

The blood drained from Dean's face as fast as it came back blushing every inch of it. “You heard about Castiel that day?”

“That ain't the point. You just gotta promise me to be safe and don't bullshit me with the Lucifer crap, alright?”

“No. No. I'd never be with Cas just to be safe or you think I'd do that?”

“I don't know, I'm just saying I won't judge you if you did. I didn't live the rebellion life but my parents did and it ain't pretty kid. Gotta stick around somehow.”

“What does it have to do with Cas? He's from the Capitol, sure, but he's different. It's not like if we were- you know- shit, you know, right? It's not like we agree with the Games or all the blind submission from the districts.”

“And then you two gotta be on the same page because a big fight is coming. I know you, and you will fight. You always do. I don't expect less from you. But if you and this Cas guy have a thing…”

“Well, we are not a thing. So, again, what the fuck does my safety has to do with Castiel?”

Ugh, so difficult. “Just wondering why the fuck you didn't fight for it.”

Dean shrugs, lowers his eyes and sighs before looking back at Bobby, “Since when do you care about my love life?”

“I don’t. Just tellin’ ya that you won’t wanna be alone when the bubble burst. And having someone you can talk to ain’t the worst. Trust me.”

“Whatever, don’t think the guy would want to see my face again anyway.”

“Okay. That’s maybe true, but if he-”

“Enough!” Dean moved this hands fast, signing Bobby to stop talking. “There’s not thing. And even if he wanted or I wanted and for fuck’s sake we worked out, I would never put you or Dad at risk. Maybe Sam, who knows. Being friends, or whatever, with someone from there is not possible, Bobby. I saw enough honest people coming from the districts to the Capitol and make tiny mistake and becoming avoxes. I’m so use for you guys being a Avox.”

Bobby waited Dean to finished, but didn’t keep his silence after that.

“Of course I don’t want you to become an Avox, not because you help out your dad, but because we care for you! I don’t want to see you go through life carrying us on your shoulders. Go fucking live your life, Dean! Forget about us a little! If you don’t want to stay, than go, but promise to do something about your life. We will be okay, no need to worry about us. We are old stuff anyway. We know you care for us, don’t need to prove no one anything. And maybe you don’t have a chance with the guy anymore, alright, but if you ever have that kind of opportunity with anybody else, you grip on the bastard tight and _do not let go_.”

Dean snorted angrily, but didn’t argue back.

 


	10. Do You Believe in Miracles?

  
No matter how hard it was, whenever Castiel’ thoughts veered towards anything related to Dean, he forced it to stop. It was less painful than the bittersweet feeling left by digging the wound of Dean’s disappearance.

More months passed and that dreadful time of the year dawned upon them again. Another Hunger Games. This year it was a Quarter Quell, an especial edition of the Hunger Games that happened every 25 years, and all the usual talk in the Capitol was ‘what would the special twist be’.

When one of his regular customers invited him to his birthday party, Castiel was very reluctant to accept. The subject of all conversations everywhere was the upcoming Games and he wished to avoid that topic if possible. A party with all those shallow people was exactly the place where he would find it. Still, feeling as if that was part of his duty as a business owner and a supposedly regular citizen of Panem, Castiel signalled his presence.

Every cell of his body despised being there, so much it was almost hard to keep it all in. He was taciturn and quieter than usual, lurking in the shadowy corners of the ballroom where the party was happening. Castiel opted for a plain, simply tailored, all black suit, and it greatly helped him remain concealed from the view of anyone who wasn’t close to him.

Most of the time, he sipped his drink quietly, observing the exquisite outfits of others, hoping that the hours would pass quickly so he could be off to his home. With a spare few he engaged in a silly chit chat, inquiring how were their families or their own businesses. Whenever the conversation reached the Hunger Games, Castiel’s answers became short, and soon he would excuse himself to get another drink.

While he was pouring a strong drink in his glass, Castiel remembered Dean. Sometimes that would happen; out of nowhere, he’d be reminded of a small detail he thought he had already forgotten. The detail that came back to him this time was the way Dean’s legs bended when walking, and quickly he understood why it was that detail that popped in his mind.

He’d spotted a pair of bowlegs walking in the middle of the crowded ballroom.

It was a fond memory and Castiel couldn’t help to smile secretly while he was still facing the drinks table. It was almost a year ago they’ve met for the first time in a situation very similar to the one he was in now.

But now... Now there was no Dean.

He did the only thing he could do in those situations: rejoiced in the memory and let it fade away. Past was past. He grabbed his glass now full and tried just a small drink to give him a bit of courage to face that party again, then turned to observe people gathering around something he couldn’t see from there.

What he could see, however, was Dean Winchester making his way out of that crowd, eyebrows arched in a familiar annoyed look of when everything about the Capitol seemed to suffocate him. Castiel spotted him first and was petrified in his place. He couldn’t even blink his eyes, believing if he did Dean would vanish from his sight like a wisp of cloud on a windy day. Dean noticed Castiel not long after and seemed to be just as puzzled and surprised as Castiel. He halted, just five feet away from the place where Castiel stood still as a stone.

Every feeling attacked Castiel at once, even the ones he didn’t know were there, deep inside him. He felt joy, a crashing wave of joy to know that Dean not only was fine but was still there in the Capitol, very close to him. He felt a longing so intense he was almost ashamed for not addressing it before. Most of all, he felt a warm chill all over his skin as those green eyes travelled from his face down to his suit.

“Dean.”

Castiel’s voice was no more than a whisper as the air left his lungs. Suddenly, he was very aware of the thudding sound of his blood flow in his ear and how he managed to put the letters together was a mystery, but that single word was enough to break Dean’s stillness. His eyes were back to Castiel’s as he straightened up his body.

“Cas.”

Castiel could only stare, still in a haze, lost to the sound of the intimate nickname rolling off of Dean’s lips in a soft exhale. Dean, on the other hand, quickly recovered from the surprise and scanned the surroundings, checking if anyone had seen what just happened. In those quick seconds, Cas blinked several times, coming back from his disoriented state. Dean was closing the distance between them and now they could speak in a low tone only the other would hear.

“You look great.”

One single sentence and Dean could make it seem like it was only last week when they met and had coffee and pie. Cas smiled, and even though he did smile in these last months, it wasn’t the same smile. That was his Dean smile. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss it.

“Thank you.” He nodded shortly, desperately trying to contain his happiness for meeting Dean again. “You do, too.”

Suddenly, Cas began to feel very hot trapped inside that suit and prayed the dim lights would hide the redness coming up his neck. “I thought you had gone back home.”

A simple and safe thing to say in that place, Castiel didn't need to say where home was, and he was pleasantly surprised he could hold the facade despite his body not being able to contain all the emotions.

“I, er, I actually did. But I came back again.” Dean smiled, seemingly a bit embarrassed, and raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck. “Of course, I’m here now, right?”

He took another step standing so close now that Castiel could tell apart the dark green of his iris from the wide pupils. If Castiel was overwhelmed by the encounter, much more seemed to be going around in Dean's mind. He was surprised but glad, though it wasn't complete, but permeated by what Cas thought was sorrow.

“I wanted to talk you but…” Dean stuttered and looked down to the space between them in a small pause, while Cas waited silently and patiently, knowing Dean needed to make things in his own time sometimes. When he raised his eyes to meet Cas’ again, his features were hardened. “I’m sorry for what happened.”

“No, no, it is fine, Dean, it was not your fault. I am sorry about it too, so I guess maybe we are even. Let’s just forget that. We can start over.”

Neither of them would forget that, sure, but Cas was willing to try his damn best. At last, Castiel remembered the untouched drink in his hand and that they were still in a birthday party full of Capitol folk and an urgent feeling to leave the place took hold of him.

“Are you busy? We can get out of here, I mean, if you want my company.”

It was only then that Dean’s face softened, his dimples disappeared making way for a growing smile and he didn’t even need to say ‘yes’ because Cas could see written all over his face that he wanted the company. Dean lead the way then, heading for the exit, and Cas soon followed after he drank all the content of his glass and left it on some table.

Dean was waiting for him at the end of a long corridor with wide windows, facing the city. It was a dark night and all Cas could see were the lights coming from apartments and street lights. Though he disliked the Capitol, it still was a beautiful view that way, from afar.

When Cas reached Dean’s side, he observed his profile a few seconds. There was still a hint of sorrow, but mostly Dean seemed to be almost overwhelmed by thoughts. Cas remained silent for a while, deciding to not interrupt him, and his eyes flew from light to light while trying to understand his feelings about Dean’s return.

There was happiness, of course, and lots of it. But he did disappear before, and part of Cas was apprehensive that he would do it again. Suddenly, he couldn’t stand the silence anymore and turned to face Dean.

“So, you really went home? How was it there?”

Dean didn’t answer immediately and seemed to be pondering his reply. “It was… Messy. Everything is crazy, but I’m sure you already noticed that… They wanted me to stay there, but they needed me here also so… Here I am.”

Cas had the impression Dean wanted to speak more, but that was not the place or time for sharing whatever happened back in District Four. Finally, Dean turned and faced Castiel, and the grave expression softened into a small smile. “And you, anything different?”

“Not really. The store is well, just as always. But… Things are different around here, in a way. I know you can see it too.” Cas couldn’t stand the stare and faced the window instead. He never thought the next words would leave his lips, but they did, in a very low, confiding tone. “They are broadcasting floggings. As if we need more reminder that they have all the power and can punish whoever they want for whatever crimes they make up. It’s horrible.”

Dean’s silence carried enough significance and he didn’t have to say a single word for Cas to know they shared the same idea. After a long while, both now staring out the window but hardly appreciating the view, Dean whispered and he could swear there was a hint of uneasiness in his tone. “Bad things are gonna happen, Cas. They’re already happening.”

Deep down, somehow, he knew. There was no going back on the path things were going and the end… The end was bloody.

Cas’ mind was full of thoughts and by the heavy silence that followed, he knew Dean’s mind was just as busy as his. He was wondering if Dean also thought it was unwise to restart that dangerous friendship at times like these when his words broke the silence again.

“You have to go back to the party? We could go somewhere. My place is not too far…”

Cas didn’t reply immediately. That was how things got bad a year ago, when Dean visited his house. For a while, he worried that would happen again, but he knew he wouldn’t back away now. In fact, he wanted to go, and wanted to stay close to Dean. “Sure. I will just go and say goodbye to the host. Will you be here when I come back?”

Dean only smiled, that was enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless thanks to Any for creating two beautiful art pieces for this chapter!


	11. There's No Place Like Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me if my description of how to make a pie is wrong here; I can’t bake bread to survive.

 

Cas? That was not happening... Was that really… Cas?

Yes. That was Cas. In his apartment. Inside his place. Castiel was _really_ there, his presence filling the small apartment entirely. Interesting how Dean wasn’t worried about how Castiel would react to his home after what happened last time they met, when Dean went to Castiel’s house. To no surprise, Castiel was more polite as a guest than Dean had been to him.

“Nice place you got here.” Castiel stepped closer to the window, in silence, observing the street outside.

“It’s not as big or comfy or nice as yours but I like it. I’m very attached to here.”

“I can see why. It suits you, Dean.”

How could a couple simple words have brought Dean so many different thoughts? What did that mean? Dean was empty and blank? Small and with no personality? Not comfortable and not nice? Why was Castiel there, anyway? Was he going to mock Dean? Or Cas was genuinely interested in being friends with Dean? Or more? Dean probably just froze in the middle of the room and he just realized that when Castiel lightly touched his arm.

“I mean it makes me feel welcomed,” he explained. “It is a nice place. Do not think less of it, please.”

Dean nodded once and offered a shy smile. Good, Cas was comfortable, but he couldn’t say the same. Not half an hour ago, Dean thought he would never see those blue eyes again. Sure, he sometimes thought about him, especially after his conversation with Bobby. He wanted the chance to make things right, but when he actually got the chance, he didn’t know what to do. Again, Castiel brought Dean back by touching his arm. It was a polite touch, just enough to call Dean’s attention.

“I am not leaving, Dean.”

Those words felt like an ice bucket but instantly made things better too. Dean needed to hear those words though he didn’t know that before.

“Good.” the air ran again through his lungs. Was he holding his breath? “Look, Cas, I don’t know what happened last time. I just freaked out.”

“I know. But we decided to forget about that, didn’t we?”

“Yeah, right. Right.” Dean was supposed to make things easier, so he went for the thing he knew he could work with. “You didn’t eat there, right? Want something? I can bake.”

“Absolutely, I would love to try something of yours. You told me about your baking but I never got the chance to try it.”

“Awesome. I don’t have many things at home, but-”

“Dean,” Castiel interrupted Dean while following him around the tiny kitchen. “I don’t mean to be any trouble…”

“Oh well, so rest your ass in the couch and wait to taste the most delicious thing you will ever have in your mouth.”

A filthy additional comment was on the tip of Dean’s tongue but he held it to himself, like the prude boy in fact he wasn't. For Dean’s luck, Castiel maybe had the same line of thought because his ears became pinker and he went back to the living room promptly with a big, though shy, smile. Now Dean wanted to have the guts to say something and let Cas deal with it there alone... Well, maybe next time.

They remained in silence for a minute before Dean struck up a new topic. “So, you know the guy? The birthday dude?”

“Yes, he buys in the store sometimes. It is not like we are friends, it was more of a courtesy.” There was a sudden pause, as if Castiel was pondering his words. “You said something on our way here about delivering a cake?”

“Lucifer, ugh, he made me do it.” Dean opened cabinets while talking, grabbing the ingredients needed to bake a lemon pie. “Not like he forced me to, but well, anyway… It was just a job. I wasn’t supposed to deliver but I thought that in times like these the best thing I can do is do things myself.”

When Dean turned back to the table, arms full of ingredients, he found Castiel already waiting for him, arms crossed in front of his body not in a bad way, just relaxed. The blazer was off and his black tie loosened. And even relaxed it was impossible to not noticed the curve of the man’s arms under the fabric of his clothes. And he must be wearing at least two layers of them. Hoping Castiel didn’t notice the staring, Dean placed everything on the table.

“Gonna help me, Cas?”

“That is my intention.”

“And when was the last time you cooked something? And I mean something edible.”

“Excuse me, I can be helpful!” Dean laughed, because Cas, who clearly was holding in a laugh, neither confirmed nor denied anything about his cooking abilities. “Just tell me what to do, I can follow instructions very well.”

“Shut up, don’t be such a tease.” Not being able to hold back anymore, Castiel laughed. “You can stay in the kitchen, just keep your hands to yourself. Can you do that, Cas?”

“Okay, sir. I shall obey.”

They looked at each other and held the gaze longer than usual. What a mysterious little thing Cas was, Dean just couldn’t predict his next words or moves. He not only incited Dean to make one hundred different questions, but also to seek for the answers.

Castiel was the one to break the eye contact, left Dean behind and began walking around the room. Dean knew that his apartment had nothing interesting, so he wondered what Castiel expected to find there.

They settled into a nice conversation while Dean cooked. Both of them were comfortable around each other again, just like they were the year before. Dean talked about his visit to Four and told some funny stories about Bobby’s Bakery. Castiel replied with more stories about his own store and his adventures there with Charlie. Eventually, Cas went to the kitchen, always orbiting Dean like a moon. When the pie was finally ready they sat at the table to eat it.

“Look at you, sleeves rolled up and all.” Dean said. “You are super ready to eat this pie, ain’t that right?”

“After all the propaganda, it is the least I can do.”

“Before you try this, I just have to say one last thing: you’re welcome.”

Dean cut the pie, slowly, and placed it beautifully right in the center of Cas’ plate. In response to the whole scene, Castiel raised his left eyebrow to Dean and hot damn, that was absolutely something Dean didn’t know he needed to witness in life until he actually did. For those couple of seconds, Castiel had Dean at his mercy. To make matters worse, Cas finally tried the pie and the pleasure on his face… Completely sinful. Was he even aware he did this kind of stuff?

“Oh, Dean, this is unbelievable.”  With his eyes closed, Cas freaking wiped crumbs from his lips with his tongue. “You are an extremely talented baker.”

That was enough to bring a cocky smile to Dean’s face. He served himself some pie while grinning proudly. Castiel just continued to devour his pie, not minding Dean’s reaction at all. After he finished, Cas got another slice. It was always good to see people enjoying his food, Dean thought. Usually the Capitol people just eat because it was there, they didn’t know how to appreciate good food. Dean hoped he could bake for Castiel multiple times in the future.

“You liked it, uh?”

“It is really good. I do not remember the last time I ate with this much vigor.”

“Well, glad you liked. Good to see people eating because the thing is good for a change.”

“And it is. Great choice becoming a baker.”

“That’s on Bobby’s. I spent a lot of time there when me and Sammy were kids. When I went back home I cooked and baked with him again. It was good.”

Cas, who had finished eating the second slice, smiled with sympathy, honestly interested in Dean’s story. Dean got his own plate and moved to the living room, where they could be more comfortable.

“Was it like you remembered, when you were back home?”

“Every damn little thing. Bobby likes things like that, so he kept it that way.”

“Did your brother become a baker, as well?”

“Well, Sam…” Dean and his big mouth. He didn’t even notice he added Sam to the conversation. “Sam… It’s complicated.”

Castiel was very careful with his next words. “Did something happen to him?”

Suddenly not hungry anymore, Dean stood up and put his plate on the table. He pondered for a moment on what to tell and not to tell Castiel, who just waited for Dean. The first instinct to strike him was to keep the story to himself. But then… Then he remembered his short and odd conversation with Bobby about Cas. That was what made him ask Castiel to come today and give whatever their relationship would be a new chance.

“Sammy was 16 last time I saw him. It was eight years ago.”

Dean hadn’t told that story many times in his life. Benny knew. Crowley didn’t, even if they were something similar to friends. He told one guy he became friends with a couple years ago, also from the Districts. And that was it. Usually, by that point Dean would be receiving a pity look and a ‘I’m sorry’. There was a look on Cas, sure, but it wasn’t pity. He knew that inside Castiel’s mind, he was probably wondering if Sam went to the Games or perhaps rebelled against the Capitol. Easy and logical assumptions. There was hurt in Cas’ eyes, like he was trying to take a bit of Dean’s pain to himself. He remained in silence, so Dean could continue.

“It was the Reaping Day of the 67th Hunger Games. I wasn’t gonna participate the reaping because I was 20 already. But Sam was 15 and he had to. He didn’t talk to me that day. I noticed, of course, but I thought _hey, it’s Reaping Day, the kid is just freaking out_. He wasn’t. And he didn’t show up to the reaping. When I didn’t see him in line I ran back home and there was this goodbye letter or whatever.”

Dean had to take a break from the story. It was a memory he usually tried to ignore and every time he thought about it, he re-lived it as well. It was like he could feel his lungs burning in need for air again. The fear he felt when he saw a letter on Sam’s bed was back. Not an easy task, to tell the story, but he started and now he needed to finish it. Because he couldn’t miss the chance to show Cas that he couldn’t trust Dean. He wouldn’t leave again.

“He had left. He said he couldn’t stand Panem anymore. Said Adam died because of our shitty politics, and he wasn’t wrong of course. But he said that he felt _guilty_ for not having volunteered in Adam’s place like he probably would’ve done if it was me there. He said he didn’t ask me to go with him because I had a chance to get what he called a ‘pacific life’ as a baker with Bobby and he wasn’t going to drag me out of it. Because the little bastard knew I would go after him in a blink. Told me to make sure Dad and Bobby were good. Lots of stuff, some bullshit, some sentimental crap.”

“It must had been hard for you, Dean. You seem to be close to your brother until now.”

“I had eight years to cool off. First, I was pissed. Didn’t get why he left without me. Still don’t. I wanted to go after him, but I had no idea where he was. That year the Capitol loved to sniff around us, I couldn’t do shit.”

“Is this why you ended working for Lucifer? Has he threatened you and your family?”

Castiel was up, beside him, offering comfort with one hand on Dean’s elbow. Dean accepted the gesture by covering Cas’ hand with his own.

“Lucifer? No. I don’t think he knows I have a brother at all.”

“And why did you come work here? Does it have something to do with your brother’s story?”

“Cas, coming or going in Panem is not exactly an option. The government threatened Bobby and my family to make me come. Back then, I knew what it was already: they didn’t know where Sam was too. I bet they wanted to punish me and use my first mistake to blame my death. Make sure the Winchesters and the whole neighborhood knew they were the ones to rule. If I did make mistakes, they never knew because here I am. After two or three years things got less stressed and fell into a routine. I’m a good baker, Lucifer would never defend me, but he would fight for my pie menu.”

Instead of the sadness Dean expected for telling Sam’s story, he felt better. He realized he had that inside of him for way too long and telling Castiel helped to ease the heavy pain. Cas’ hand, which previously was on Dean’s elbow, slid up to the shoulder and next thing they were hugging. Dean has never been much of a hugger, but with the right people, he was.

Interesting how life was. Dean met Castiel almost one year ago. They had coffee once and met other two times and, at least from Dean’s side, it felt right, like everything was already connected just waiting for them to meet each other. Months had passed, they met again. Two hours later, Dean was hugging him like it was the right place to be, missing something he never had.

They didn’t hug again that day or do anything else other than eat or talk. Dean discussed baking and Cas talked about his interest in harvesting and gardening, something he never got the chance to explore in the Capitol. Castiel must have stayed at least a full hour before he had to go. He took a big slice of Dean’s pie and kissed his cheek, just like Dean did to him the last time they were under a doorway.

It was only after Dean closed the door that he noticed Cas’ black tie forgotten in one of the window sills. With a smile, he got the tie in hands and slowly folded it. He kept the tie by his nightstand for a long time.

 


	12. Point of No Return

 

Finding Dean again in the middle of all the mess put Castiel’s routine in a new light.

On the next morning he woke up full of energy and couldn’t stop thinking about when they would meet again. Hours seemed to drag painfully slow while he worked at the store and the usual constant Hunger Games talk only made things worse. By the end of the day, Cas’ cheery mood had dropped to mere hand waves and short sentences just enough to keep work flowing.

Then, he was positively surprised when Dean appeared on the front door soon after Charlie left and he was preparing to close the store.

“I’m sorry, I would’ve come sooner but today was crazy!” As Cas let Dean in, he noticed his breath was erratic and hurried as if he had run all the way to the store. That idea alone made Cas feel butterflies in his stomach, and he smiled, completely unaware of it.

“It is fine, Dean, you don’t need to apologise to me. But I must confess, I am glad you came.”

Dean beamed and that was enough to make Cas’ day immensely better. Alone inside the store, a safe space for both of them, Dean shared how his day went, his work at the bakery and the several cakes and pies he prepared that day. He vented about how Lucifer could be a major asshole and Cas listened attentively and offered all the comfort he could, even if it wasn’t much.

“It’s ‘Dean, do this. Dean, do that. Dean, fetch me that. Dean, bake this complicated recipe in 10 minutes.’ It’s like he does that on purpose. And I love baking, you know, right, but I’m not allowed to have pleasure or fun doing it. I’m not allowed to have fun at all!”

Long after Dean left, that last sentence continued to ring in Cas’ mind. Dean should be allowed to have fun just like anyone else. He took matters in his own hands and decided that on the next day he would be the one visiting Dean at the bakery.

The next day was a cold one, and Cas had to wear a trench coat over his blazer to keep warm while outside. He arrived where Dean worked just minutes before closing and joined the line of customers waiting to be attended, hands tucked inside the pockets of the coat. Dean was nowhere to be seen and another attendant worked on the counter.

Once there, he began to wonder if going in was a good idea after all. They hadn’t set boundaries in their relationship that was just starting to flourish again. Maybe Dean wasn’t comfortable with that yet, maybe Lucifer would give him a hard time for having visitors at his workplace. Cas could work around Lucifer, he had a menacing look and enjoyed bullying the underdog, but Cas was clever and had the way with words to fool him just right. With Dean’s feelings, however, he couldn’t interfere.

But Lucifer didn’t seem to be around either, and while waiting for his turn, Cas took a look at the bakery. It had a unsympathetic atmosphere for a bakery, with dark colored walls, sharp corners and cold lighting. The only thing welcoming him there were the pastries displayed at the counters but those were no merit from Lucifer. Cas caught himself wondering which ones were baked by Dean.

When Cas was the next in line, at last, Dean showed up. He wore an apron dirty from top to bottom indicating he had a busy day at the kitchen, and carried a strawberry pie. Cas’ eyes were glued to him as Dean placed the pie beside others in the display, completely unaware of his presence. It was only when he stood up again that he noted Cas staring at his every move. The tired look in his eyes disappeared in a second, replaced with the bliss of surprise and the promise of good company. Cas mirrored the smile that formed in Dean’s lips, but neither of them spoke a word.

Cas continued to observe as Dean whispered something to the attendant, who nodded, and next thing Dean was calling Cas with a small head nod. “How can I help you?”

Cas stepped forward while trying to tone down his excitement and that wasn’t an easy task. “Hello, I would like a lemon pie to go, please.”

Dean snorted but managed to hold the laugh, and left the counter to get Cas’ order. By the time he returned with the lemon pie wrapped in a brown paper bag, the other attendant had finished with the last costumer, and Dean and Cas were alone at the bakery. Cas gave him the money for the pie, and it was only then that he felt some safety to talk openly with Dean. “How are you?”

“Much better now, honestly. And you?”

“Perfectly fine.”

Both smiled and Cas felt a rush of excitement run through his veins. It was enough to make him know that _that_ was not wrong, whatever _that_ was, and it gave him confidence to say his next words. “I know this is out of the blue and I do not know if you have any plans for now, or if you can leave work now, but I wanted to know if you want to have coffee with me. I want to take you somewhere.”

“Sure, I’d love it. I’m just off work, just gotta change.”

Cas waited outside the bakery, trying his best to resist the delicious smell of the pie reaching his nose. Dean didn’t take long and soon he returned, this time wearing the many layers of his usual simple and well worn clothes.

“All set. Where are we going?”

“No spoilers now, it is a surprise.”

“Okay then, Mr. Mystery, lead the way.”

And so Cas led the way through the streets in the center of the city while Dean shared some stories about his work as the daylight began to fade. When the lamp posts were turning on for the night, they finally arrived at their destination, a 30-story high building with nothing special about it except the usual fancy appearance as any other building at the Capitol.

“I have been thinking about what you said yesterday, that you were not allowed to have fun. So I thought of taking you to a cool place that you probably never been.” Cas pointed to the top of the high building. “It is up there. I hope you are not afraid of heights.”

Dean looked up and Cas took that time to appreciate Dean’s profile and jawline. With his chin up, Dean’s adam apple popped and the hollow at the base of his neck deepened. Right there and then Castiel was sure he never met anyone as beautiful as Dean Winchester from District Four.

While they rode the elevator up, Cas remained calm, solemnly holding up the pie that he was eager to taste with every passing minute. He could tell Dean was trying to contain himself, but hopped from one foot to the other from time to time. Cas was the one to break the silence.

“Dean, you may not like it because it looks like a place for rich people and the last thing I want is to reprise that time you went to my house. So, just ignore it and enjoy, okay?”

He seemed to notice Cas was talking seriously and that made him stop and stare him for a while. “It’s fine, Cas. These things don’t scare me anymore. Maybe just the rich people.”

Cas was relieved and truly hoped that Dean had a nice time there with him. He led the way again after they reached the last floor, through a corridor and a door until they were at the rooftop. It was completely open and hosted a simple bar, with chairs and tables spread all over the area. The place was empty, except for the staff starting to work on the bar.

“Come,” Cas said and then, in an impulse, held Dean’s hand with his free one and took him to the glass fence by the edge of the building. His palm was warm even in that cold weather and the skin no longer had that softness from youth, like Cas’ hand still had. Another one of those differences that emphasized how far apart their lives had been. Dean, however, barely seemed to notice his hand was being held. His eyes couldn’t stay focused on a single thing for more than five seconds, and his head turned from side to side as if trying to get a 360° view of the place all at once. Cas could tell that Dean had never been there, and the stunned look on his face made his heart warm.

Cas dropped the paper bag with the pie on a table and took Dean right by the edge. From up there they could see the horizon above all the other buildings and the light of the ending day gave the sky a stunning gradient, going from orange to soft pink and dark blue on the far side where even a few stars began to appear. They could see the entire city’s skyline and the lights starting to pop in many houses and apartments as the night drew closer.

Dean continued just as mesmerized and Cas wouldn’t dare to say a word and break that magical moment. Wide eyed, he stared the faceless life under their feet. It was easy to ignore the corrupted morals of its residents or the iminent Games and the terrible loss it represented. Up there, it was only Dean and Castiel, hand in hand and nothing more.

How long had passed before either of them spoke? Cas didn’t know. After the astonishing view of the sunset settled for him, it was the sight of Dean’s face that had his full attention, particularly the reflection of the warm light in his eyes. While observing the highlights in his long eyelashes, Cas was able to better access his feelings for Dean. They’d been confusing so far, but at the moment they seemed very clear: Cas was falling for Dean, falling from as high as they were with no parachute. Dean was part of his life now.

Apparently unaware that Castiel was staring at him, Dean finally spoke. “This place is unbelievable.” He took a deep breath and turned to meet Cas’ eyes already on his. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

_Still falling._

“I am just happy you like it. Sit down, I will be right back.”

When Cas returned, he brought with him two coffees and two spoons to eat the pie. Dean seemed no less amazed than before, but turned his focus to Cas when they began to eat slices of pie interspersed with chatting.

“Did you bake this? It is delicious.”

Dean took a good look at the remaining pieces of pie. “Maybe, maybe. I think I baked ten of those pies today. Hopefully they all taste as good.” He paused, as if considering his next words. “I decided I’m gonna enjoy things the way I haven’t so far. And I wanna bake more for you. Cupcakes. Do you like cupcakes?”

“I am pretty sure I will like anything you bake, Dean.” That made Dean’s ears turn red and Cas made a mental note to compliment him as much he could on his baking, obviously he wasn’t getting the recognition he deserved from Lucifer or anyone else. “You could come to my place, I can get all the supplies you need and I am sure the kitchen will be far better in your hands than mine.”

“Sounds good, Cas.” However, Dean’s face dropped and Cas couldn’t understand why until he continued. “The horror Games are not far now and I don’t know how much free time I’ll have this year…”

“We can postpone, it can be after the Games…”

“No.” Dean’s harsh tone surprised Cas, but when Dean spoke again, his voice was soft, though still grave. “We can’t postpone because I don’t know for how long I’m gonna be here.”

There it was. The possibility always existed, of course, but while it remained unspoken they could still pretend to ignore it and all the ramifications it would bring. Cas placed his coffee down and didn’t hesitate to touch Dean’s hand.

“I will help you enjoy your time here. This place here is just the beginning.”

From then, they fell silent. The sky grew continually darker as each of them finished the coffee and wrapped the remaining pie to take home. Cas’ eyes were focused down, avoiding the green eyes that could effortlessly disarm him without warning, when his voice alone was able to do the trick next time he spoke.

“You forgot your tie at my place, you know…”

“Yes, sorry about that… I don’t how I could forget it.”

“You were comfortable, it’s understandable.”

“I hope that is not a problem.”

“Oh, Cas, sunshine, no problem at all.”

Now Cas was the one blushing. The nickname could easily be used for irony, but Cas was willing to bet that wasn’t Dean’s intention. Since they met again there was a slight shift in what he insisted to call friendship, evident by that inconspicuous flirting that neither of them was yet ready to make obvious. Though Cas finally understood his feelings for Dean had developed into something more than mere friendly connection between similar minds, he wasn’t sure that the man standing in front of him felt the same, or if he wanted Dean to know his feelings at all. If things went bad, then it would be easier to let go.

Until then, Cas had been completely clueless to whatever was happening around them. Night dawned on them, and the rooftop, once empty, was now crowded with people at almost every table. They were the usual Capitol stereotype, but a pair of men caught his attention.

One was straight from his childhood, a face that aged much since the last time Cas saw right in front of him instead of through the television. It was Plutarch Heavensbee, recently announced Head Gamemaker for that year’s Quarter Quell. The other man was Cas’ father.

Plutarch seemed to notice Cas at the same time and in his pursuit of a table, stopped by Cas’ side, with that ever enigmatic little smile of his.

“Castiel. Last time I saw you you were but a young man.”

For a second, Cas felt cornered and the blood froze in his veins. He had all his walls down while sitting there with Dean, he didn’t need to keep a facade or pretend to be someone he wasn’t. But Plutarch was trouble, he was the eyes of the government watching him and someone who Cas could bet he knew was from District Four on what was clearly a date. He needed his regular Capitol citizen mask to be back up.

Cas rose from his chair, back and shoulders straightened, towering just a little over the other man whose presence and power seemed to make him much taller.

“Hello, Mr. Heavensbee. It has been a while, yes. I must congratulate you on your new job. I am sure this Quarter Quell will be amazing.” And he hated saying every single word, but hated more that Dean had to witness him in such a despicable moment. From behind Plutarch, Cas saw his father snort silently, but ignored it completely.

“Thank you very much. With your father’s advice, I hope it will be a thing to remember.”

Cas, that had been holding up a formal smile until now, let it die in his lips with those words. There was the man who soon would be responsible for twenty-three deaths talking about them as if he was just removing invasive weeds in a garden.

“Please excuse us, we must get back to business. It was good to see you, Castiel.” He nodded to Cas and Dean and then both men went away. When he finally sat down again, the sweet taste of pie had been replaced by a repulsive feeling, not just about Plutarch or his father, but with himself, and Castiel couldn’t even look Dean in the eye.

“Cas?” The mellow tone confused Cas the most because he wasn’t expecting gentleness from Dean at that moment.

“Yes?”

“You okay?”

When Cas lifted his eyes, Dean’s were gazing at him, full of concern. “I will be, don’t worry.” He couldn’t keep the stare much longer, and so lowered his eyes to his hands crossed on top of the table. “That man with Heavensbee… It was my father. I suppose you noticed things are not very good between us.”

“Oh.” It was all Dean said but it was enough. His voice was loaded with empathy. “Mind if I ask what happened?”

Cas wouldn’t ever talk about his family by his own free will, but the situation was different now. Dean had seen him and how broken that relationship was. Though Cas didn’t really want to talk about his father, omitting something felt far worse.

“It is complicated… I will understand if you wish to distance yourself from me, but I will not hide it, not from you. My father and I are very different people. He was Head Gamemaker of the 49th Games. He was obsessed with it, and turned out to be the youngest to get that position. I was just four at the time, and I remember thinking my dad had a job that made him evil. Grandma influenced me to think that already from that age. And as I got older things just got worse. I tried to rebel, as anyone with some decency would do, and he continued to view the Games as an amazing show. We fought many, many times, until they left the house and we haven’t spoken since.”

Cas had to pause and look at Dean, he needed to know his reaction. Surprisingly, his look was not of loathing, but had that same empathy that was in his voice before. “I mean, I know his opinion, and he knows mine, what is the use of pretending?”

No word came out from Dean for a while, and during that time that silence lingered, Cas observed Dean’s expression. It was of intent concentration as he seemed to digest the information. Maybe Cas took too long to clarify his family issues. Maybe Dean was looking for an excuse to bail. What he least expected was Dean next question.

“By they… you mean your mother? What about her?”

Cas shrugged. “Things are not so bad with her. We rarely fought, in fact, but that was because my mother would never stand up for anything, she never has an opinion all by herself, so she always follows my father. She used to say that I needed to calm down and do what they told me to or think like everyone else in the Capitol. And I did that, when I was a child, but later she continued to try to force things onto me and I kept refusing and sometimes did the opposite… At some point, she just gave up.”

Dean sighed heavily and shook his head. “Cas… Children can’t be punished by their parent’s mistakes. I know you, I know you’re not your father. And I’m not gonna distance myself from you, I believe it’s too late for that now.”

Those last words were what impacted Cas the most. It was a clear statement that Dean and Cas were on the same path of emotions, and realizing that made Cas’ spine chill. He was relieved, too, for sharing about his life. There were no more secrets now, except one and it was with those words that Cas decided he was going to tell it to Dean as soon as possible.

They didn’t remain at the rooftop much longer after that, the place was at full capacity and the privacy they had when they first arrived was gone now. They left together and while going down in the elevator, Cas felt Dean’s fingers brush lightly against his.

He smiled to himself.

Yes, he was very much in love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More beautiful art from Any! Isn't it great? Trust them to capture Dean's gorgeousness!


	13. Angel Heart

 

Six years. Six long years that Charlie worked with Cas at Wine Heaven and still she had goosebumps when he left the store in her charge. Sure, she knew _how_ to do it, but it didn’t mean it didn’t _scare_ her.

On that afternoon, Cas left her to solve some issues with a delayed shipment from District One, and fortunately things were very chill at the store. Occasionally, when all customers had been served and she was alone, Charlie hummed some of her favorite songs.

It was exactly what she was doing when the famous Dean Winchester entered. Famous of course, because Charlie knew everything about him by now. Cas could be the master of the blank face to everyone else, but Charlie knew him better and far too long to know something had changed. He was constantly distracted and way too smiley. She was the smiley one, not Cas. She didn’t even have to ask where his mind was at, Cas told her anyways, their trust in each other was very deep.

By the end of the tale of how they found each other and everything that had happened in between, Charlie was eager to meet the subject of interest himself. She remembered his face from that time a year ago when he came to the store, and a few other times recently when he always left with Cas. When she questioned Cas on the next day to know where they went, the reply was always Dean’s place or a coffee shop.

Charlie contained her excitement as Dean walked to the counter, looking from side to side, until he finally reached her.

“Hi. Is Cas… Castiel here?”

“Oh no, Cas is out for the rest of the afternoon, I’m sorry.”

The disappointing look in his eyes was just so saddening that Charlie wanted to wrap him in a hug. He moved as if preparing to leave when Charlie spoke again.

“You are the Dean, right?” That caught his attention.

“The Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas’ Dean.”

_Oh shit, oh shit, OH SHIT, he is blushing don’t make this awkward, Charlie._

“It’s okay, it’s okay, he told me about you!” She extended a hand with the widest smile. “I’m Charlie Bradbury. It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

Still a bit hesitant, Dean shook her hand. “I don’t need to introduce myself, you already know my name.” And then the most curious thing happened: Dean’s suspicion faded into a smile, one that Cas consistently described to Charlie. It formed small, very soft dimples on his cheeks and reached his eyes, where it created crinkles on the corners and lit them all up like the sun in a warm summer morning. “Nice to meet you, too. I gotta ask, Charlie, what else did Cas tell you about me?”

Realizing she had said too much, Charlie worked her words, being careful to not put Cas in a bad position. “Oh, just a few things. He told me how you two met, and that you’re a baker. Told me I could consider you a friend.”

Dean pondered that thought for a while, then gave her another of those smiles. “Yes, yes, you can. It goes both ways, I guess.”

Once they established a connection, bonding became easy. With Charlie on the inside part of the counter and Dean now sat in a stool on the other, they chatted for a long time.

“Cas mentioned you to me, actually, but he never explained how you two end up friends in this crazy place, and I didn’t want to be nosey...”

“It’s fine, I can tell you now. I suppose you know about his grandmother, right?”

“I know she won the 17th.”

“Oh man, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Well, I was a kid when I found out there was a Tribute living in the Capitol. Back then, I loved the Games and every victor was like an idol to me.”

Charlie observed the frown in Dean’s forehead, and almost could see his mind think that befriending her was a bad idea. She raised both hands in the air with a guilt bow.

“Not my proudest moments, I know. I found out a way to meet her and talk to her. And she was nothing that I expected her to be. I thought she would be proud of her accomplishments and the victory she fought so hard to achieve in that Arena, but she still carried the weight of the guilt of every death dealt by her hand. She was the one that made me see what these Games really are, nothing more than a puppet show to entertain the masses and subdue the districts with fear. That day _she_ became my only idol.”

“She seemed to be quite a woman.”

“Yes, she really was a force to be reckoned with. I went to her funeral when she died a few years ago, and that was when I met Cas. I remember we both said she was brave and strong but not the reason why because we both knew it was because she stood up against the Games. We clicked instantly and few days later he asked me if I wanted to work at the store with him because he now would be working alone. And ever since then he took me under his wing.”

“Cas is something else, too.”

Charlie could see he was trying to not smile while saying that. “You have no idea.”

“I think I do. Never met anyone like him.”

“No, Dean, you really have no idea.”

“What, is he hiding something from me?”

“I’m in no position to tell you that. What I can tell you is that you’ll never meet anyone else like Cas. He is the most generous and selfless person I know, and that’s saying something here at the Capitol.” Charlie leaned closer to Dean over the counter and lowered her voice. “I know he overcharges our stuff here so he can pay double for the suppliers in the districts so they can have extra money. He takes from the spoiled rich and gives to those that need it most.”

That was something Dean didn’t know, the awestuck look in his face, with eyebrows slightly arched and his lips forming a small oval shape, made it very clear. “Cas never told me that.” Suddenly, his entire expression became grave and what once was amusement mixed with admiration, turned into regret and Dean hid his face in his hands. “And I judged him right in the beginning for being an accomplice in this madness… Uh, I’m an idjit.”

Charlie placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and gave a light squeeze.

“Don’t blame yourself for that, Cas wouldn’t tell you this because he doesn’t want the praise or recognition. He does it because he thinks it’s the right thing to do. I told this just so you know Cas truly is someone special.”

Dean nodded slowly. He processed the information in silence for a while until Charlie spoke again with a much cautious approach.

“Cas also told me you’re not from here.” He glanced at Charlie, still in silence, but there was no sign of hostility or fear for her knowing that small yet important detail. “Do you miss it there?”

“A little, sometimes… But I miss mostly things that I can’t have.”

“I hope you can find happiness, no matter where you are.”

A thankful smile came to Dean’s lips and Charlie returned with another fond and friendly smile. Eventually, their solitude was interrupted by new customers and Dean quickly stood up from his stool.

“I should be going. It was great to meet you, Charlie. Tell Cas I stopped by, okay?”

“I will. Bye, Dean!”

Charlie watched as Dean left through the door, wishing it won’t take Dean too long to realize he was just as in love with Cas as Cas was in love with him.

 


	14. Mystery Spot

 

“Look at that! If it ain’t Dean Winchester, the one and only!” Benny opened the door wider to let Dean in. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Benny!” For Benny’s surprise, Dean welcomed him with a hug before he entered the place. “’Been ages.”

“Sure, long time no see, brother.”

Dean seemed… Different. Last time they saw each other, Dean had just come back from District Four. He was shaken physically and emotionally, as if the trip both gave him life and took a little of it away as well. Dean spoke and spoke and spoke like he never did before. Stories about Sam and Bobby. Told Benny about new baking ideas, despite Benny not having the slightest idea of what Dean was talking about. By the end of that day, Dean was wrecked but clearly lighter.

Then he never saw Dean again.

But this Dean wasn’t the ‘usual Dean’ and neither the wrecked Dean. It reminded Benny of something… When had he seen him like that… Oh!

“You are back with Mr. Edlund, aren’t ya?” The reply was in Dean’s grin and Benny found himself smiling, too. “How the hell did it happen?”

“Met the guy by chance, started to talk. One thing leads to another and…”

“You are fucking the dude.”

“What? No! We- no-. We are just hanging out.”

Look at that! Dean was so over his heels for that guy. “If you say so. Gotta believe you, brother.”

“Cas and I are taking things slow. It’s better. We’re different. We’re friends.”

“I said it was cool, don’t need to explain me stuff, really, Dean. Wanna beer?” With Dean’s approval, Benny grabbed two bottles of cheap beer and gave one to him. “I know you didn’t miss me now that you are hanging out with Mr. Liquor Store, I guess you want something?”

“Yeah, I do. You said something about a pool in the building?”

Benny frowned, his forehead creasing, not because of the pool but because if he remembered it right, he told Dean about the pool when he had just moved, about three years ago. He imagined that his fellow Four citizen would miss swimming as much as he did himself, but Dean never showed any interest in the matter until that moment.

“Yes, we have one. No one uses it, I don’t think people here actually know how to swim.”

“I bet they don’t. Cas doesn’t. I want to teach him.”

“Are you sure you ain’t dating this guy?”

Dean laughed but hid his face in hands as well. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Sure, Dean, anything for my good friend and his date.”

They laughed together this time. With eventual swigs of their beer bottles, they made the arrangements. Benny thought it would be better if Dean and Castiel came during his day off, which happened to be every two weeks. They settled the date and time.

“Awesome. Cas will love it.”

Benny observed Dean with attention while he told a story about how they met again in a birthday party and he baked Castiel a pie that day.

“Sometimes I imagine what would it be if Fergus actually showed up at the first party. Talking about the devil, have you heard from him?”

Dean didn’t know. Oh shit, Dean didn’t know. Thinking better about it, Benny was pretty sure everything happened while Dean went back home. He even thought the same had happened to Dean. Benny had to pull one string or two to make sure Dean was okay.

The absence of answer was enough to make Dean realize there was something wrong. “Wait. Did something happen to Fergus?”

“Yes. Dean. They made sure to let me know. I’m not sure why.” Before continuing Benny took a deep breath, “He went back to District Two. He got lost in a hunting trip. Crowley died.”

“WHAT? Hunting trip? He has never hunted in his life! And why in hell did he go back to home?” Suddenly, Dean’s eyes got wider. “Shit. Holy shit. What did he do? He never went, did he?”

“Don’t think so. I think he started to say stuff in favor of the kids from the Games to his clients. You know what happens when you say something like that.”

“They get rid of you.”

Dean fell silent, and Benny followed suit, finishing his beer. For the last few months, Benny worked his ass off for the riches. Got more money than ever. If he didn’t have contacts with other people from the districts, he would never know about the light fire which began to burn with the 74th Hunger Games. In the beginning, he thought the Capitol people simply ignored everything, but soon he realized that they just didn’t know. They honestly thought everything was perfect and that President Snow was doing the right thing. What he took from the last Game was a possibility of new exciting and unexpected stories. Because, after all, the Hunger Games was only a show to them.

The mood was dead cold now. Benny could see clearly what was on Dean’s mind: would the Capitol believe the Dean/Castiel thing was a threat? For what Benny have heard from Dean, Castiel seemed like regular Capitol dude minus the crazy hair and disgusting habits. But Benny also knew how unpredictable and dangerous life of someone from the District was if one started living in the Capitol.

“I think I should go see Cas.” Dean finally broke the silence.

“Go, brother, talk to your dude. See if you guys get your shit together.”

“Damn Benny, the way you say it sounds so easy.” He let an awkward laugh strike them, in hope the mood would become lighter. It didn’t. “See you in two weeks, Dean. You take care. Mr. Capitol, too.”

“I will. Thanks.”

And Dean left. They wouldn’t have time to have a proper conversation again in at least another year and it would be in completely different circumstances.

 


	15. The One You've Been Waiting For

 

Seeing Dean had become the highlight of Cas’ day, and they saw each other almost every day. When they didn’t, it was because one of them was trapped at work - usually Dean by Lucifer’s fault - or had another appointment - usually Cas pretending to be the person he wasn’t. When they were together, however, it was all smiles and flirtation.

At some point, Castiel understood he needed to ignore the piece of logic his brain was still trying to force on him and surrendered, body and heart, to his ‘friendship’ with Dean. Their dates were filled with small touches, on the hands, arms, shoulders, even legs if they happened to be sitting side by side, and they always parted with a hug and kiss on the cheek. Dean’s smell, a deliciously sweet baking scent, was what he missed most when they couldn’t meet.

Until now, Cas had never taken Dean back to his house. The place seemed to bear an ominous presence to the relationship and Cas wasn’t willing to ruin the whole thing now when it seemed to be sailing so smoothly in calm waters.

And he still needed to be completely honest with Dean about his life, but the right opportunity to share secrets hadn’t happened yet. He knew the longer it took the harder it would be.

With that in mind, Cas invited Dean to bake those cupcakes he promised once but had not yet been fulfilled. Dean promptly accepted and the next day Cas found himself eagerly waiting for Dean’s arrival.

He looked very tired when, long after the sun had set, he appeared at Cas’ door.

“Long day?” Cas asked with a comprehensive smile. It wasn’t like he didn’t have his hard days as well.

“Very long day.” Dean’s voice was just as tired. “But a date is a date, right?”

“Right. Come in, I have the kitchen ready.”

Dean removed his jacket and hung it on the foyer before following Cas inside. As of late, Cas had seen Dean more and more frequently in single layers, and not in multiple of them as he usually presented himself for people other than Cas. Castiel took that as a visual testimony of their relationship getting stronger, a sign that Dean was comfortable in the place and that it no longer represented another distinction between them.

The kitchen was ample and fully equipped with a large stove and other useful appliances. Cas filled the island at the center with everything Dean would possibly need, a myriad of silverware, a variety of fruit and grains, and way too many cupcake molds.

“Wow, Cas, did you ransack the fruit market or what?!”

Cas shrugged innocently. “I thought it was better to stock up.”

“Well, it seems we have more than enough, thanks to you. You’ll help me, right?”

“Sure.”

“‘kay, lemme see. Why don’t you clean and cut the strawberries while I work with the lemons?”

Silence. Cas didn’t reply.

Maybe there was no perfect opportunity after all.

“Dean, I need to tell you and show you something before anything else.”

Dean, knife in hand ready to peel his lemons, lifted his eyes to Cas. As soon as he noticed the seriousness in them, he dropped everything. “Ah, sure Cas, you can tell me anything, you know that.”

“I did not tell you only to protect you, me, Charlie, and many other people in the districts, because we can all be tortured or killed by Snow. But now I feel I can trust you and that you, more than anybody, deserve to know, and I really hope that I am not wrong.”

Other than a discreet twitch in his eyes when Cas mentioned they could be tortured or killed, Dean’s expression remained stern all the way through. “You can trust me, Cas.”

Cas could easily be turned on by Dean’s hoarse voice if he wasn’t so restless about keeping his secret much longer. He rounded the island until he closed the distance between them and looked Dean deep in his eyes. His pupils were wide, Cas couldn’t tell if it was because of interest or by apprehension for whatever waited for him. Cas looked down at Dean’s free hands and held one of them.

“Come with me.”

Once hand in hand, Cas led the way, walking side by side with Dean towards the corridor just after the kitchen. It was darker there, where just a dim light that escaped the kitchen could reach. The corridor was empty except for two doors, one small in the end that was a bathroom and, in the center of the largest wall, metal double doors that led into Cas’ father’s office. The doors were ajar at the moment and Cas pulled them wide open so they both could get inside.

“Before my father became a Gamemaker, he renovated this room to be his office so that he could work on his ideas. That was when he discovered that this house has a bomb shelter underneath it.” Lights were already on in the office. While talking, Cas locked the door behind them once they entered and went to the windows in the back. He locked them too and shut the heavy curtains just for precaution. “He did not want to lose that place but also did not like the idea of it being easily spotted. So he created a lock.”

Cas went back to Dean’s side and guided him until they stood up near the office walls. The office only had furniture on the sides, the middle was completely empty. There was a spiral pattern on the stone floor, apparently just for decoration. Cas flicked a switch, but no lights turned on or off. Instead, the spiral stones moved and formed a spiral stairway downward.

Cas looked at Dean with apprehension. He was used to it, but understood it could be surprising to anyone else. Dean’s face was a mix of confusion and shock and Cas wondered how he would feel once he saw what was under the stairs if he was already so surprised just by the mechanism.

“Now, we go down.”

He went first. The staircase wasn’t long, but the way was dark for a few meters because the shelter was built deep below the house. At the bottom, Cas stopped just beside the stairs and waited for Dean. The place was basically a second house, not just a bomb shelter. It lacked division by walls but otherwise had a small fully functioning kitchen, bathroom, an improvised bedroom with two single beds on the farthest corner, and Cas’ father’s old workshop loaded with tech junk. Sitting on a couch on what resembled a living room with several shelves loaded with books, was a blonde teenage girl and a slightly younger boy playing a board game together.

They had been observing the descent of the two men with much curiosity and Cas offered them a warm smile. “This is Claire Novak, from District Nine, and Jack Kline, from District Four.”

Cas looked at Dean, and saw that he stood by the stairs and hadn’t moved since, both body and expression frozen with perplexity. What was going inside his mind Cas could only imagine, but there would be shock in any way Cas revealed his most well kept secret. Dean wasn’t alone on that ride, though. Cas had been keeping those two sides of his life separated and only on that day told the kids about Dean’s existence.

After a while, Dean finally broke free from his shock and waved a hand. “Hey, guys.”

Both waved back, however, Jack was almost jumping up and down on his seat.

“I promise I will tell you the full story later, but what you should know now is that they are here of their own will and because they needed a safe place.”

Cas observed Dean blink several times while he listened to Cas’ shortened tale. He was quiet for too long and Cas was beginning to worry. Maybe it was really wrong to bring Dean here.

“I know this is a lot to take in, and if you want to leave and forget all about this, I will completely understand you. But Dean… The way things are going… We are friends and I could not continue to hide from you this big part of my life.”

Dean at last turned to Cas, a confused look plastered on his face as if what he just said was utter nonsense.

“Cas… I’m not leaving. You stayed when I told you my secrets. Claire, Jack, they matter to you, that’s why you brought me here, and I guess that _I_ matter just as much.”

Cas was able to breathe deeply with those words. Dean couldn’t cease to amaze him in several different ways, and Dean’s willingness to part take in what was so evidently a crime against the Capitol inspired a wave of confidence in him. The initial shock seemed to have waned but Cas knew Dean’s expressions and the awed look was unmistakable.

“You three are the most courageous people I’ve met. And my brother, but that is different…” Dean let the rest of the sentence die. Though he had shared some stories about Sam from when they were young, that topic never stopped being bittersweet. Instead, Dean focused on Jack with a frown, then offered half a smile. “I don’t remember you, Jack, I’m sorry… How long have you all been here?”

Jack was the one to answer, and Cas smirked with his avidness to talk with a fellow from Four. He was fearless and enjoyed talking to strangers, and it had been long since he had such opportunity. “For me, it’s been four years and counting. Claire’s been here one year more, so five.”

Cas turned to look at Claire to try to access her feelings about that whole thing. She seemed very calm, even with a subtle smile in her lips, and looked back and forth between Dean and Cas, and it didn’t take him long to understand why. They stood very close to each other, so close that Cas’ fingers touched the outer part of Dean’s, and their entire demeanor alluded to an intimacy that, in fact, didn’t exist. Cas had been oblivious to that until that moment, so focused he had been on everyone else.

Moving slowly as if trying to go unnoticed by Claire’s keen eyes, Cas took a small step away to invite everyone to go up so they could start preparing the cupcakes. Jack was first in line after he hurriedly jumped out of the couch, there was no need to invite that kid twice when nougat was involved. Claire followed, then Dean and Cas activated the mechanism again so they could open the office doors.

They all gathered in the kitchen and the place hardly ever been that full, or merry for that matter, and Cas experienced amazing new feelings.

He was actually happy. Fine, Castiel wasn’t an unhappy person. He was solitary and more reclusive than anyone else in the Capitol, and though his life could never inspire an ode to joy, there were moments of happiness. Charlie was like sunshine. Seeing Jack and Claire’s well being made gloomy days much more bearable. His moments with his grandmother were a tireless source of delight. Dean, though a new element on that equation, was a counterbalance to all the bad that the upcoming Hunger Games represented. At that moment, Castiel and Dean helping each other prepare the cupcakes while chatting with Claire and Jack, he was genuinely happy.

That night Cas found out that not only was Dean was a great baker but was also a great leader. He managed three curious intruders and gave instructions to keep everyone’s hands busy. Everyone’s hands were also dirty when all the cupcakes were put in the oven to bake. And not just hands, Cas’ face had been practically painted with flour by Dean, who apparently couldn’t keep his hands to himself and found the whole thing extremely funny, especially when Cas pretended to be grumpy.

While waiting for the cupcakes, Claire and Jack decided to continue their game and headed upstairs to the second level of the house. Cas grabbed a fresh towel and tried to clean his face when he realized they were alone there.

“Stop it, Dean!” He snapped Dean’s hand when the baker, with a very innocent look, tried to smear more flour on a spot that Cas had cleaned.

“But why? You’re so fun to tease!”

Dean stepped closer and tried again but this time Cas managed to grab his wrist. “I am warning you, or you will feel my revenge.”

He was really just pretending to be grumpy. In fact, Cas was thoroughly enjoying the moment and the reactions he got from Dean were priceless.

“Oh, I bet you can be wrathful.” Dean had a devilish smile and it was right then that Cas stopped having fun.

His heart started beating faster and a low heat comfortably settled in his pelvis when Dean’s eyes so evidently travelled from his trapped hand to Cas’ lips. Cas realized too late _he_ was the one trapped in there. Dean’s presence acted as strong magnet and Cas couldn’t even look away when he licked his lips sinfully slow.

He would be a fool to deny he wanted to kiss Dean. He’d been desiring that for a while. The plump and pink lower lip seemed deliciously inviting and Cas, leaning forward just a little bit, wondered if they tasted like the strawberries that Dean had been sneakily eating. He was met by Dean’s free hand, that cradled his jaw and to put an end to the distance between them.

Dean’s lips felt like the wings of a butterfly, soft and almost ticklish. He brushed them gently over Cas’, either teasing or testing how far he could get away it. As for Cas… He was too far gone, and he wouldn’t stand more teasing.

Cas released Dean’s hand, letting it sloppily slide down his arm and the side of his body until it settled on his hip bone. He could feel Dean’s hot and hurried breath fanning just over his philtrum, and finally, Cas lift his chin in a minute movement to capture his lips.

They did taste like strawberries, and also of much more. They tasted of freedom and discovery and of uncharted territory and of defiance. Cas kissed each of Dean’s lips individually, giving them his undivided attention. Dean response was immediate and the low hum coming from his chest was very pleasuring. Taking that as an invitation, Cas nudged Dean’s lips open with a gentle stroke of his tongue. Dean eagerly deepened the kiss but never stopped being delicate. While the fingers of his left hand caressed Cas’ cheek with unceasing tenderness and his right arm involved around the waist, Dean’s tongue discovered the ripples on his palate, and the sensuality of that alone intensified the heat on his lower abdomen and awakened the erection down in his pants.

Dean seemed to have felt that too because he chuckled still over Cas’ lips as if not yet ready to let them go.

“Cas, think you got the concept of avenging quite wrong…”

Cas tried not to laugh, but if he was happy before, nothing compared to the blissfulness he was in now. The dazedness of too many emotions let him temporarily blind and Cas remained with his eyes closed, savoring the after taste and giving himself some time to calm down his body. He felt Dean’s forehead rest on his, where it remained until both of them were breathing calmly. Cas didn't dare to move, afraid he would wake up from the perfect dream if he did.

Dean recovered his senses faster than Cas and at some point started to peck little kisses on the tender skin under Cas eyes and the bridge of his nose. It rendered him speechless.

But then, reality began to resurface and the threats to which that kiss could expose them replaced all the good feelings Dean could ignite in him.

“Dean…” Cas whispered the lovely name with a long and mournful exhale. At long last, Cas raised his head and opened his eyes just in time to see Dean's face fall from perfect joy to something Cas couldn’t quite name. “Are you sure about this? It seems that our feelings are mutual but… Us? It is very risky.”

It was Dean’s turn to close his eyes. His hands were still on Cas’ face, thumb continuously brushing over the shadow of a beard that he hadn’t yet shaved. Something inside him fought to make him appreciate the moment, and Cas wanted to, but he also couldn’t ignore his concerns. Dean’s voice reached a new low tone when he spoke after a long silence.

“I don’t want to worry about it now… I know- I know the danger, but… I like you… More than I should. And I’m ready to face anything with you. And because of you.”

Those words broke Cas’ heart, but also mended all the little pieces at the same time. Dean was willing to go against the strongest force in the Nation to be with Castiel. And though Cas’ mind still tried to present that as a situation whose outcome could only be death, in his heart Cas knew he wanted to do the same. Cas placed a kiss over Dean’s lips to seal that unspoken deal. He felt his jaw clench, an indication that Cas wasn’t the only one struggling with his emotions.

“We will be careful. More than before.”

“Promise.”

Dean kissed him again and this time he wasn’t that gentle. His lips seemed hungry for Cas’, but not just that. He placed many kisses on his cheek and reached for Cas’ ear to nibble on the earlobe. Meanwhile, Dean’s hands were a whole new adventure. They had settled on Cas’ lower back right at the start and Dean gently pressed Cas closer against his body. While the kisses intensified, he tried to be discreet with sliding his fingers until they reached Cas’ ass, but there was nothing discreet about his cock poking through his boxers on the tight space between them.

“Oh, hello there.” Dean cooed in Cas’ ear, making him laugh again. He would be embarrassed if he wasn’t so happy.

“It is all your fault, including the fact that your face is now dirty.”

Cas got the towel he was using before and wiped clean the white spots with more care than it needed. Though that was the first time they kissed and revealed their feelings, the intimacy didn’t feel strange at all.

Very soon the cupcakes were ready and once more the kitchen was filled with people talking, and also the fresh smell of Dean’s baked goods. The flavor was nothing like Cas had ever tasted, though it was probably enhanced by the happiness in him. Claire and Jack showered Dean with praise just as much as Cas, and by the end there was no cupcakes left to tell the story.

The night was getting late when Cas and Dean found themselves alone again, sitting in the couch of the living room after Claire and Jack had retired to the underground bunker. Dean sluggishly petted Cas’ hair with a look of admiration.

“Are you for real, Cas?”

“As real as you.”

“Is there any other secret that you didn’t tell me?”

“No, we are clear now.”

“Gotta tell you, Cas, I’m still worried about you and the kids… But I’m very happy to know that you trust me enough to tell me your secret.” Dean leaned closer to leave another kiss in the corner of Cas’ lips. “How did they end up here?”

“A few days before the Reaping of the 70th Games I had a problem with a shipment from District One, the trains were stuck and they wouldn’t be able to send until after the Games. I needed to restock the store as soon as possible so I asked permission to the Capitol to travel to One and bring the stuff myself. I had done that before already, and as expected they granted permission and gave me a vehicle and I drove to District One. When I was coming back with the shipment, I saw this girl on the side of the road, she appeared for a second on a patch of high grass and then fell on the ground. She fainted from hunger and I believe she would have died that day if I have had not met her.”

Cas made a brief stop. He would never forget the sight of malnourished Claire on death’s doorstep, and now it only served to remember him about the terrible quality of life in the poorer Districts. With a deep breath, he continued. “I hid her inside an empty wine barrel, she was very small then. Some sort of miracle happened when I arrived back at the Capitol and no one inspected the shipment. I brought her to the bunker down there. I cleaned her, fed her, clothed her. Fortunately, she was not hurt. After a week, she was back on her feet and told me why she was wandering in District One. Her family in Nine was extremely poor and no one could sign up for tesserae in exchange of food. She was just eleven then, and had two younger siblings. They used to collect food from the woods but on that day she separated from them and got lost. The more she tried to find a way home, the more she distanced from there. She lost track of how many days she wandered, eating plants and seeds, until she ended up in a village in District One but lacked the courage to ask for food or shelter there. Then she tried to round the village to get to the woods again, and that was when I found her.”

Only when the tale was finished that Cas looked at Dean. He had been listening with intense attention. Horror filled his eyes when it ended. No matter how many stories they heard about the consequences caused by the Hunger Games, it never ceased to be horrific.

“It was very lucky that no peacekeeper or hovercraft found her before.”

“Very lucky. I spent the next weeks trying to decide what to do until I realized that taking her back to Nine was impossible. I could not sneak her out of the Capitol, the risk was too great. So she stayed in the bunker, and I furnished it so she could feel at home.”

“She’s okay with staying here?”

“Yes. Sometimes she says she would like to go back and see her family again, but she understands the risks.”

Dean resumed the slow caress of Cas’ hair while they remained silent.

“What about Jack?”

“Well, first thing you need to know is that after Claire arrived I visited District One again. My supplier there was a long time friend and, after Charlie, the only other person to know about Claire. Few months later, before the 71th, I received one of his shipments, and one barrel stood out from the others. It had ‘Four Harvest’ written on the side. There was not a single drop of wine, but one small boy, Jack.”

“Wait, this supplier, is he trustworthy?”

“My grandmother trusted him, she knew his family ever since they were young, before she won the Games. I trust him as much as I trust you or Charlie. Anyway, Jack arrived and we discovered he faked his death in Four and began to live in the forest to collect food for his family and avoid being reaped to the Games. He got progressively further away from his village every week, and one day he met the son of my supplier, who came up with the idea of sending him in a barrel. Winter was getting closer then and Jack knew if food was short now, when the cold struck hard he would starve, so he accepted.”

When Cas turned to observe Dean’s reaction, he found the other with an intense look forming crevices between his eyebrows. Slowly his thoughts became audible words. “If Jack could find a way to a safe place, then so could Sam.”

Cas turned his body to fully face Dean. “Dean… Whatever happened that allowed Claire and Jack get here with life… It was a miracle, a lightning striking twice in the same place. The amount of Avoxes here in the Capitol are proof that this is not how things usually go.”

“Cas, no. I know, I always knew Sam couldn’t be dead. I’ll find him.”

Cas never heard that much determination in Dean’s voice, and though it would make Cas immensely happy if Dean found his lost brother, he knew the odds were very much against them.

In silence both stayed, each lost to their own thoughts. Cas was sure Dean was imagining many scenarios of what could have happened to Sam, but Cas’ thoughts were very much close to them.

“Are you my boyfriend now?”

Dean blinked, surprised with such an unexpected question.

“Yes, I think I’m your boyfriend.” That smile that Cas liked so much slowly appeared on Dean’s lips and turned into a light laugh. “Geez, I never thought I would date someone from the Capitol.”

“And I never thought I would date a baker from Four.”

Cas grinned widely and leaned forward to kiss Dean, one of many kisses they would share on that couch that night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you are wondering how are the districts divided, we used this [map of Panem](https://media-cdn.tripadvisor.com/media/photo-s/09/c7/b1/53/discovery-times-square.jpg) from the Hunger Games Exhibition to base our fic.


	16. We Happy Few

 

Dean Winchester was dating. For real. Dean Winchester from District Four was dating Castiel Edlund from the Capitol. The idea still sounded alien inside his mind, but Dean didn’t care because he got to see Castiel almost everyday. And touch Castiel. And kiss Castiel. Be Castiel’s.

For the first time in his life, Dean was his own priority. It didn’t mean he stopped sending money to Bobby and John or that he wouldn’t care about Sam anymore. But having a relationship was nothing like he had ever experienced. He started to do things just for the joy it would bring to his day. And Castiel was always reminding him that he deserved to be happy and what they had was rare. They found their true selves in one another when all they did for years was pretend to be somebody else. More than just a sentiment or an exchange of touches, just being with each other gave them safety, strength, and confidence to go on.

And things were getting crazier each day. It was clear how desperate President Snow and the rest of the Capitol were afraid of the possibility of a rebellion. Last time the nation was at war, they had to decimate District Thirteen before the other districts decided to bow down. But there was no doubt that some districts were plotting to rebel against the Capitol due to the events of the last Hunger Games. People had the 74th Hunger Games’ victors, especially Katniss Everdeen, as the symbol of the rebellion. But she was their Mockingjay. Hope. Strength. Rage. Change. Rebellion. Well, for Dean, Castiel was his Mockingjay.

Dean knew that shit was happening in the districts while he was at Castiel’s baking cupcakes, playing house in times of eminent war. However, he couldn’t help it. Every time he heard someone went missing or mysteriously died was just a reminder that Dean didn’t belong there and there was no happy ending in sight. He should enjoy the time he had before he needed to go away. Or be taken away.

The swimming pool day was approaching, and Dean often thought about it. First, because it had been years since he last swam. Maybe it was when Sam was still at home. Dean missed swimming in a way he wasn’t aware. It was the main activity from his district, most of the jobs there included water. Even though Dean ended up being a baker, he was an excellent swimmer.

Second, Dean would be teaching Cas how to swim. Not to enjoy his boyfriend’s almost naked body under the water... Or to take advantage of how the water could smooth the friction between their bodies... Or to be able to pin Cas against the swimming pool wall, legs around Cas’ waist, being so easily carried under the water...

Soon Dean found out that Castiel and swimming pool were two subjects not to be thought together while he worked if he didn’t want to have an indecent boner. Well, since he started dating Cas for real, those inconveniences happened more often, especially since they were also moving forward when it came to the physical action. Dean had never been with someone for that long and not gotten inside their pants, however Dean had never dated any of them either. Castiel seemed to be as eager as Dean, but also glad about how they were handling things slowly.

Castiel was incredibly responsive to touches. Very vocal. Meanwhile, his voice had an impact on Dean in a way he would’ve never had guessed. A few make out sessions were enough to make Cas realize Dean loved to be teased and he became insufferable about it, teasing Dean as much as possible. However, they didn’t have much time to explore that side of their relationship yet. Once Dean knew about Jack and Claire, the four of them started to spend time together when they were at Cas’. When they did have some time alone, things ended up being only above the waist, with the exception of one heated and very pleasurable exploration of Castiel’s thighs. Little by little, they were taking steps toward intimacy, always careful not to cross any of the other’s limits or push into something which they were not comfortable with. And Dean knew beforehand that their time in the swimming pool would zero his ‘taking things slow’ time bank.

The day arrived, finally. Dean was somewhat tired from the bakery. Since Dean would leave the bakery in a couple of weeks to follow his duty as one of the head bakers of the Hunger Games, Lucifer had been extra son-of-a-bitch with him, clearly just for the pleasure of being the one in command. Dean hated that. But now it was time for his swim date and he had to shake the stress away and spend some quality time alone with Cas.

He planned on going home to change after leaving the bakery but instead he went straight to Castiel’s. When Cas opened the door, part of his stress disappeared instantly. That smile was irresistible, and Dean only had time to shut the door with his foot before diving on it. He felt his shoulders loosen while Cas’ hands held him tight there. Dean’s own hands laced Castiel’s body to make sure they would be close to another. They kissed for a whole minute, but it was a calm and tender kiss, like going home. Maybe he was, in fact, at home.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hmm… Good to see you, Cas.” Dean said, face still close to Cas. “Sorry I smell like bakery.”

“I would not know. You just smell good to me.” Castiel stole a kiss and let go of Dean. He always had more willpower than the baker. “I thought you were going home before we go.”

“I was, but then a thought ‘why go home if I can go to Cas’?” With that, Dean chased Castiel with his hands, but the other man just deflected in a quickly move. “Cas, come on!”

“No, Dean. I know this look. If you want to go, we have to go now, otherwise I am pretty sure we are not leaving at all.”

“Caaas!”

“You are so whiny. As whiny as you are pigheaded.” Castiel finally succumbed and offered Dean a quick kiss. “You know what I was thinking? I have no swimsuit. I probably should have thought about this before.”

Multiple images of Dean’s fantasies of the past week crossed his eyes in a blink. He could swear his cock quivered inside his pants with the idea of Castiel naked, his glorious body within the reach of Dean’s hands, willingly to be explored. Dean quickly wet his lips, eyes closed for a second while bringing himself some sense, and talked again.

“You can wear just your underwear.” Dean well remembered that Cas wore boxer briefs last time he checked. “I will only wear that too, anyway. What do you think?”

“What do I think?” Castiel got closer, hands sliding on Dean’s biceps. God, he wished he wasn’t wearing so many layers. “I think we are in trouble.”

“Oh, yes, sunshine. So much trouble.”

In the end, they left the house half an hour later after a nice make out session on the couch. Dean was drunk with Castiel touches and little compliments and he only stopped because the perspective of doing that inside of a swimming pool was very inviting.

Benny’s apartment was far from Castiel’s and they had to walk for at least thirty minutes. It was dark outside and there were many Peacekeepers walking around, more than usual. All of them eyed the couple, waiting for the smallest sign of rebellion, but they behaved, walking far enough from each other, Castiel holding next to him a bag with their towels and a change of clothes. They did not talk or even look around very much.

Dean was glad to get to Benny’s building. It was a bit fancier than Dean’s but still simpler than Castiel’s. Inside the elevator, Dean allowed himself to throw an arm around Castiel, who did the same, nosing Dean’s neck. He could sense in Cas how his arousal wasn’t one sided. When they got to the eighth floor, the embrace was over, but Dean kept his fingers laced with Castiel’s, not quite ready to lose contact. Cas seemed content with the move, he always made sure they would be touching somehow. He was a little possessive, Dean noticed, but not in a bothersome level, it was just enough to make Dean feel how important he was. Cas cared so much about him, maybe as much as Dean cared about the man.

Together, they walked through the corridor and stopped at the door numbered 801, Benny’s door.

“He’s expecting us, this shouldn’t take long.” Dean knocked the door.

“Who is this person again? Is he a friend of yours?”

“Jealous, Cas?”

Before Castiel could process or answer Dean’s question, Benny opened the door. Dean noticed how Benny seemed more tired than the last time they saw each other. Still, Benny smiled, eyes going from Dean to Castiel.

“Glad you finally accepted my offer.”

Immediately after Benny’s words, Dean felt Cas’ fingers tighten around his, possessively. Dean wanted to tell Cas to never feel threatened to lose Dean. Dean was his. He shouldn’t worry. Then he did what he could do in that moment, he brushed his thumb in circles against Castiel’s skin. The response was positive and immediate, making Cas loosen his grip a little. Just a little, though.

“Gotta spend some good time with my man, ain’t that right?”

“I’m sure, brother. Here’s the key to the pool.” Benny handed Dean a small golden key with no chain attached. “Top floor. If you guys lock the door, you’ll be alone.”

“Thank you, Benny.”

“No problem.”

They needed to leave before Castiel had a stroke beside him. Benny nodded to both men and smiled again before closing the door. They went back to the elevator in silence, their hands basically glued to each other.

“Can we trust him, Dean?”

Dean, who would probably be mad at the jealousy on Castiel’s tone if the situation was different, smiled, finding the whole thing rather cute. “Yes. I trust him. Benny has always been there for me.”

“Now I am here for you.”

“And I have you both.”

Castiel responded to the statement by pushing Dean against one of the walls and kissing him hard, hands claiming Dean’s body as his with firm touches. The elevator stopped, and the door opened but Castiel continued to kiss him. Dean felt one of Cas’ arms reaching the buttons next to them and the door closed.

“What did you do?” He asked.

“Giving us some more ‘us time’.”

Dean was about to say they were headed to a place where they would be alone, but his words were stopped by Cas’ tongue on his lips, begging for permission to be let in. Damn it, who was Dean to deny such a thing? He let Cas lead them into the kiss, initially very passionate, with little bites and light scratches behind the neck, but soon they calmed and just enjoyed the feeling of having the other so close. Dean gave special attention to Cas shoulders, moving his hands and pressings his fingers there, feeling Cas relax little by little.

“Cas,” Dean finally said between kisses. “Cas, we gotta go, sunshine.”

Dean absolutely loved the complaining grunt that Cas gave him when they parted. Both of them were visibly affected by the kissing session inside the elevator, but they ignored their erections and kept going. On the top floor, there was only one door and Dean had to put some strength to unlock it, like it was rarely used.

The swimming pool was bigger than Dean imagined but still not big enough for him to practice swimming, for example. The water was heated, and the room was warm and a little foggy. It was all very inviting. Dean started to undress without a second thought, eyes glued to the warm waters.

“Is this heaven or what?”

“Oh. It is.”

Only then he turned to see a clearly thirsty Castiel. He had seen Cas turned on before. He had just seen Cas with the hots. But he had never seen that much want on his face before. Dean walked to Cas with intention to hurry up and undress his boyfriend already, but Castiel seemed to enjoy the moment too much to do something about it. Dean undressed his Cas himself, slowly, however, making sure to not make skin to skin contact, barely able to ignore the very clear erection Cas had going on inside his boxer briefs. In the end, Castiel touched his thumb along Dean’s jaw line and he could swear they would kiss. Castiel even raised his chin a little and Dean opened his mouth, but the kiss didn’t come.

“You are here to teach me how to swim, remember, Dean?”

Fucking tease. “Easier said than done.”

Suddenly, Dean was alone. Castiel was so frustrating sometimes! Dean observed while Castiel walked around the pool until he reached the steps leading to inside the water. Dean never wanted him as much as in that moment. He wanted to taste that smile, to make Castiel gasp while he sucked a mark right below his ear lobe. Dean wanted to kiss, to bite, to taste, to do everything possible with Castiel. He touched his very awake erection, but there was not much he could do while still wearing his boxers briefs. However, they would have time for that later. Watching Cas’ face light up while he entered the swimming pool warmed Dean’s heart. Suddenly, he didn’t want to be in the water just because he missed it. Thinking better, maybe he didn’t even miss the water that much. All he wanted was to share that moment with Castiel. To enjoy every second he got beside that man. Extend every touch for as long as possible, maybe to never end them. Dean felt like there was no sky above him or earth underneath. He was so light, so good, he felt like falling.

Falling.

Falling in love with Castiel.

_Fuck!_ The new information hit Dean like a thunderbolt. He felt the electricity running through his body, powering him in a way he had never felt before. Well, he had never fallen in love before.

“Dean. Are you coming or not?”

Dean ran towards the water and gracefully dived in the pool. When he surfaced, water reaching the mid of this chest, Cas had a huge smile. His cheeks were pink because of the heat and his hair all wet and yet a beautiful mess. Oh, damn if Dean wasn’t in love with that man before, he sure was now.

“You seem so happy in the water. How did you end up in a bakery and not working with a water related job?”

Only the happiness wasn’t the water’s fault. “I love water,” he said, instead. It wasn’t a lie, anyway. “I just like to bake more. I love to swim and to be here, but just for fun. Working in the water is not like this. At least in the kitchen I can bake beautiful and delicious things.”

Castiel accepted his answer. Dean, who was lazily swimming here and there, stopped and noticed Castiel walking towards him until he could reach Dean and drag him close, gripping him tight. The water reflected on Castiel’s blue eyes and they were unbelievable, as beautiful as ever. But what a shame to just compliment those eyes. His hair. His mouth. His shoulders. His hands. All amazing. Dean knew it wasn’t the first time he focused on how handsome Cas was, since that day when they met, but apparently, he would never get tired of doing it.

“You are beautiful.” Cas whispered.

Dean was drowned on his own thoughts about how amazingly beautiful Cas was that the statement got him out of guard. “Shut up.”

“It is true. While the men from the Capitol try so hard to look handsome, they weren’t as nearly attractive as you are. And they do not have one quarter of your heart.”

“Oh well, I had a chat with Charlie these days and she told me about your big heart.” It started as a teasing, but the tone was slowly fading into admiration. “You are incredible, Cas. What you did for Claire and Jack. What you do with your business to help people… I could never do that.”

“Only you do. Is not that what you do? You trade your services to help your family.”

“No, that’s different.”

Dean knew Cas wouldn’t understand. Having the kind of help Castiel was offering could be the difference between life and death because the number of times someone in age to go to the Games had to ask the Capitol for help was how many times their name would be in the Reaping Day. Dean himself had his name six times one year, but he heard of people having their name fifteen times. Castiel brought him back by touching Dean’s chin, raising it and meeting their lips together in a light kiss.

"I am not going to argue with you, Dean Winchester, but the men from the Capitol have nothing like your talent. Your sagacity and wisdom. You are one of a kind. I am the luckiest man alive because I have you, Dean.”

Dean wished he could say that his next words slipped from his mouth, but it would be a lie. For each statement Castiel spoke about him, he would repeat in his mind, I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you, I love you. Until he finally said it.

“I love you.”

It was the first time Dean said those words to anyone and for a second the was scared Castiel would reject him. There was surprise in the eyes Dean loved so much, however it lasted only enough to the their edges crickle and Cas' face lit up. It was beautiful. It was a summer day by the river. It was winter nights by the fireplace. Everything good mixed in one huge, enormous smile.

“I love you too, Dean.”

It was a still scary for him, never being really attached to people and having such an intimate bond with someone. But it was good, so incredibly good that Dean was wondering how he never missed it before. Or maybe he longed for something like that, but never realized what it was. Still wandering, he pulled Castiel closer and not just the lips, but their entire bodies were touching now. Slowly he walked Castiel backwards and pressed him against the pool’s wall, just like in this fantasies.

Dean captured Cas’ mouth fiercely, not thinking about the details of what he was doing. Dean didn’t mind anything anymore as long as Castiel continued to respond to his touches like that. They were locked inside that place and alone. They loved each other. Fuck the Capitol. Fuck the Hunger Games. He loved Castiel and he would never let this feeling go away.

They separated, panting, seeking for some air. Castiel teased Dean’s ear lobe with his mouth while he had both hands on his ass, squishing their bodies even closer together. Dean was rocking his erection against Castiel’s, but their boxer briefs were on the way and he needed more. When he got the chance, he cupped Castiel’s cock, still trapped inside the underwear.

“Need more.”

Dean moaned the words and Castiel bit his neck followed by a seductive lick. Considering that a permission, Dean slid his hand inside the boxers and wrapped his fingers around Cas. Another moan escaped Dean’s lips while his body responded to the intensity of the new sensations. Castiel dropped his forehead on Dean’s shoulder and thrust his hips up once.

“Dean.”

That motherfucker’s voice did things to Dean. “Yes, Cas, I’m here. Do it again, babe, you’re doing great.”

And Cas did it again. And again. And again, until Dean couldn’t ignore his own erection anymore, slid his boxers down just enough to take himself in hand. Dean worked with slow and lazy strokes, the same way he was doing with Cas, who immediately looked down, mouth opened, hands clawed on Dean’s ass.

“Like what you see?” Dean asked while he did a bit of a show in his hands.

“Just imagining the things I’ll do to you when we get in a proper bed.” Dean eyes got a little wider and Castiel raised his head to face Dean, the fucking brow raised, owning Dean last breath. “Or the other way around.”

Dean licked his lips, that somehow managed to go dry in a swimming pool. “Why don’t you tell me?”

Cas smirked. He slid his up Dean’s body, painfully slowly, until he reaches the neck. Dean leaned against the hand, every touch was too intense to ignore. Dean’s grip got tighter and the speed increased, specially when Cas started to brush his thumb over Dean’s bottom lip. They both moaned.

“I will tell you, Dean, what I want.” Cas slid the tip of his thumb between Dean’s lips, who responded by pressing them around it, sucking it lightly. Cas followed the movement with his eyes but did nothing, just continued to speak. “I want to feel you all, without any clothes. And not only with my hands, fingers and mouth, but with my whole body. I want to taste you. I want to hear you moan without fearing if someone is listening. I want you to forget how to breathe, forget time, forget everything. We will only exist when we become each other. I want to make you come so good, so hard, you will only be able to say my name. Because from that moment on, I will forever be the only one to make you feel that good. And you will be the only one to make _me_ feel like that too. I will leave marks on you. Just because I can. Can’t I, Dean?”

Dean closed his eyes, intoxicated by Cas’ touches and voice. Dean felt chills all over his body. His hands stopped moving. He wanted to say yes for each of Cas’ wishes, but his voice got stuck. For a moment back there, he thought he was controlling the situation, but the truth was that Castiel had him in the palm of his hands.

“Dammit, we need a bed,” Dean finally said. What they were doing was great and hot, the water helped a little, but he wanted all what Cas said and for that they’d need a bed, at the very least. “My apartment isn’t that far.”

“Then, we should go.”

In the bag they brought from Castiel’s there were two towels and clean underwear for Cas. Dean had to go commando, which was terrible when he was as horny as he could get. I seemed unfair to trap his hard cock inside his jeans, but the images that Castiel put inside his mind were enough to hold back any complaint. Dean locked the door and put the swimming pool’s key inside his back pocket. And there it would remain forgotten.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What about this art?! SO BEAUTIFUL! Great job, Any!


	17. Rock and a Hard Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More smut for you, sunshines.

 

Their walk from Benny’s building to Dean’s was short, he knew that, it was a fact. However it felt endless. He could sense Castiel next to him vibrating as much as himself. So close, so far, Dean needed Cas completely with such emergency that he almost felt sorry for not staying in the swimming pool. He literally had Castiel in arms and hands. But no, Dean _needed_ a bed. Ugh. It didn’t even seem like an action from a man who had been jerking off on images of the man with blue eyes. _Damn, it Dean!_

It wasn’t a surprise, though, that as soon as they were inside the elevator, any of those remaining regrets disappeared. Cas wrapped an arm around Dean’s middle and pressed his front to Dean’s side. Cas was, at the very least, half hard.

“Cas, you gotta help me here, man.”

“I plan to.” He moved his hip a bit harder against Dean.

“I know, it’s just that we’re-”

Dean couldn’t finish his words, the elevator stopped on the third floor. Before the door opened, Cas had turned his back to the door, wisely hiding himself from anybody who entered the elevator. Unfortunately, Dean was still facing front, and all he could do was to put his hands inside his pockets, trying to disguise the obvious bulge on his pants.

The person, a man Dean didn’t know the name but had seen around, entered, eyes fixed on his own watch. Still, he asked, “Is it going up or down?”

“Up to the fifth and then it’s all yours.” Dean answered and the man sighed, not looking to either Castiel or Dean.

When the elevator arrived on Dean’s floor, before he left it he already had his key in hand. Castiel followed him closely behind, hot presence silently calling for attention.

Once they were inside, Castiel dropped the bag with his clothes on the floor and stood there, in the middle of the room.

“You waiting for me, Cas?”

“I don’t know.” He paused. Even few steps away Dean could notice Cas’ chest going up and down in arrhythmic breaths. “Still haven’t decided on what to do first.”

“Well, first,” Dean deliberately walked slowly towards Cas. “We take our clothes off.”

“That sounds like a wise idea.”

“My ideas are all awesome, Cas.”

Cas blinked fast. His eyes were dark, locked to Dean’s, whose hands were on the collar of Cas’ coat. Neither moved, enjoying the anticipation of what was about to happen. Dean took his time appreciating every detail of that gorgeous face in front of him, from the curve of the eyebrows to how his lips were chapped, parted in a silent invitation. Dean felt Cas hands on his waist, then fingers hooking on the loops of his pants.

“You know what I just remembered?” Cas asked.

“Uh?”

“You didn’t have dry underwear back there.”

“Nope, going commando, baby.”

The hum that left Castiel’s mouth echoes through Dean’s whole body. The same fingers that were previously hooked on the loops slid to the inside of the jeans, lightly brushing Dean’s skin. Castiel brought Dean closer and leaned forward, mouth only a few inches away from Dean’s. Their breaths mixed. Dean held the coat’s collar tighter.

“I must be honest with you, Dean.” Cas pause, measuring his words. “I’m not a virgin, however I have never been… this intimate... with a man before.”

Dean’s brain short circuited for few seconds, not knowing what to take from the information. That was so far from Dean’s situation. It was true that Dean had been living a lonely life if compared to his time in Four or from when he first arrived in the Capitol,  but he had already had sex with a number of people. Castiel felt the hesitation in the few silent seconds and took off his hands from Dean, head leaning a little to the side in confusion.

“Is that a problem, Dean?”

“What? No. Of course not.” It was true. “It’s just… I’ve been with… you know…”

“Dean.” Castiel smiled and the action eased the sudden tension. He cupped Dean’s face with one hand. “You don’t need to explain your life before me. There is nothing that would change what we have. Whatever it was, I don’t mind. And if you don’t mind my inexperience, I would love to kiss you right now.”

And that was exactly what Dean did. Warm breath surrounded Dean’s lips when he captured Castiel’s. All fervor from the swimming pool was back. Dean could only think of how much he wanted to show Cas how good they could be together.

Easily Castiel lost his coat as well as Dean’s. While they walk to Dean bedroom, his own shirt is gone and his hands were working on Castiel’s fly, so when his calves hit the bed and he fell back, Dean easily took off the pants from the man.

Dean wanted to worship Castiel’s body. Whatever was Cas’ past experiences with sex, Dean wanted to make it better. He hated the idea of Castiel being with anybody else.

First Dean worked with his hands on Cas’ legs. While he did that, Castiel took off his shirt. Again Dean had the stunning view of Castiel’s torso and Dean wanted to taste every bit of it. The idea made his own cock complain, alone and trapped against the rough fabric of his pants.

Dean was more fascinated than he expected. Cas had strong muscles and incredibly rigid thighs. He kissed every inch he could reach. By the time Dean reached the seam of Cas’ underwear, the man was panting in expectation, hands clenched beside his body.

When Castiel noticed that Dean would ignore his erection, he grunted in complaint.

“Dean…”

“Be patient, Cas.” Dean said, working on Cas’ navel. “Getting back there, don’t worry.”

“There will be revenge. You just wait.”

He slid his hands to Cas shoulders while he nibbled the side of Cas’ torso. “And I thought we established that your idea of revenge sucked.”

With sudden movement, Castiel held Dean’s wrists, one in each hand. Dean dropped over Cas, face buried right in the middle of his stomach. Castiel patiently waited for Dean to adjust and support himself on his elbows, one in each side of Cas.

“Do not underestimate me, Dean. You know you are allowed to do anything to me, but have in mind that if you give me pleasure, I will give you pleasure. If you tease me, I will tease you too.”

Dean could almost feel his own pupils dilate with the Cas’ words. His lips dried, but his mouth salivated with desire. The reactions didn’t go unnoticed by Castiel, who raised one eyebrow, waiting for Dean’s response.

“Maybe I like a little tease.” Dean answered in a whisper.

“Good,” Cas let go of Dean’s wrist. “we are on the same page.”

By that point Dean’s train of thought was completely lost and he just climbed Cas, getting a handful of his dark hair and crashing their mouths together.

The sensation of his fly directly against his dick wasn’t comfortable, and Dean almost thanked Cas when he held Dean close to him and flipped them. At the moment Dean’s back hit the bed, Castiel started working on the pants until Dean wasn’t wearing them anymore.

Castiel’s eyes were filled with lust, the blue basically unnoticeable. The gaze was unashamedly locked on Dean’s very hard cock, which gave a twitch in response.

“Are you going to do something about it, Cas?”

His eyes flickered quickly to Dean’s but soon came back to Dean’s crotch. “I can’t decide.”

“What about you touch it with your hand first? And then if you feel like tasting it, you can try.”

Cas just nodded. First he positioned his hands on Dean’s inner thighs, massaging them, teasing Dean just like he promised. He took his time feeling Dean’s skin, pressing and touching his fingers on it. Sometimes the touch was light, but in others not so much. Cas bended himself close to Dean’s crotch, and Dean could feel his breath on his cock. He wanted to beg Cas to touch it, didn’t matter how, just needed to stop to postpone his pleasure. However, Dean didn’t. He would do things his way for now.

“I will- Can I-”

Dean looked down and Cas was so close to him but yet so damn far. He touched the base of Dean’s cock with the tips of his fingers and the touch sent shivers through Dean’s whole body. Blue eyes met green and Cas smiled, gripping the member with more confidence.

A gasp escaped Dean’s lips and made it difficult to think about anything else. He knew he should get the lube to make the pumping easier, however between thinking that, having Cas holding his dick and actually doing something, Cas closed the distance and darted his tongue out, licking the precome already leaking from Dean.

The unexpected touch caught Dean by surprise and he jerked up a little. Cas eyes met Dean’s again.

“Did I do something wrong? I shouldn’t do this?”

“No. No. I mean. Yes, Cas, you totally should, you can, it’s just I wasn’t expecting you to- you know, already.” He mumbled with no direction. “It’s freaking awesome, trust me.”

“Can I continue?”

“Go for it.”

And Cas did. The inexperience was a minor detail because Dean had Cas’ sinful mouth on his dick and whatever else in the world didn’t matter. Cas’ hair had dried in such a beautiful mess way that it was impossible for Dean not tangle his finger in it. He didn’t push or pull, just followed Cas’ movements, head bobbing up and down as he worked on Dean.

Cas’ hands were also doing an amazing job, instinctively teasing Dean’s body while he encouraged Cas by whispering randomly ‘yes’, ‘like that’, ‘again’ ‘you’re doing great, Cas’ and, of course, an uncountable number of times of ‘Cas’, Dean’s new personal mantra.

When one of Cas’ hands stopped playing with Dean’s sack and went further to touch his rim, Dean gasped again, but that time Cas wasn’t surprised or confused.

“Not expecting?” Cas asked. His lips where puffed, flushed and very wet, so inviting that Dean pulled his up again to a heated kiss, Cas following the cue without hesitation.

“Why in hell are you still wearing those?” Dean asked while he slid his hands inside Cas’ underwear, capturing his ass and pressing the man down.

“I don’t know, I kind of like the sensation. Though I agree it is time to lose it.”

Reluctantly, Dean let Cas go. He walked back, stood up in front of the bed, in front of Dean, and took off the last piece of clothing without breaking eye contact.

And there Cas was in all his gorgeous glory, only and exclusively for Dean. Dean felt like the luckiest bastard in the world, not able to believe he had Cas only to himself. He would be the first man to be with Cas and he wished to be the last one too.

“Fuck. I really love you.”

He had said those words earlier but in that moment it was a different I love you. Because he loved Cas’ personality, tenderness, intelligence and company, yes, but he also loved Cas’ body, the messy hair, the muscular thigh and that amazing dick he couldn’t wait to have inside him. He loved everything about Cas.

“Yes, Dean, and I love you. But I’d like to explore the ‘fuck’ part right now.”

Dean laughed, because he could see in Cas’ eyes and smile that similar thoughts were running through his mind. The love was definitely mutual.

“‘kay, how do you want to do this?” Dean popped the question.

“Hm. I don’t know. I am willing to do anything, I believe. How do _you_ want to do it?”

 _You inside me_ , he thought immediately. Though, he’d love to open Cas up, especially knowing he would be the first one to witness it. The image was tempting, but then Cas started to climb the bed again, moving his knees beside Dean’s body and pleasuring himself at the same time. Yeah, Dean would comply to his own wishes. Dean reached for the bottle of lube inside the nightstand before replying Cas.

“You inside me. If you want to, of course.”

“Oh. I want to.”

Dean sat up and helped Cas to sit over his thighs. They kissed lazily for a while, Dean’s hands on Cas’ neck. Then there was a clicking sound Dean well knew as the bottle of lube being opened. Cas did that.

“Dean.” He said after parting the kiss, their mouths still touching. “Will you guide me?”

Preparation wasn’t something people from the Capitol enjoyed, they viewed it as just a step to the real part. However, Dean knew that it wouldn’t be like that with Cas. They would have enjoyed every bit of the way, together. Cas was absolutely all of Dean’s wet dreams at once.

They settle in a position where Dean was laid back on the bed, left leg hooked over Cas’ shoulder, the other man knelt between his legs, fingers ready to do their magic work. Dean guided Cas in what to do and how to do it. Cas listened with attention and followed what Dean said, though he let his own instincts guide him too, exploring both his and Dean’s pleasure.

“Please don’t misunderstand me, Dean, but I believed you’d be… tighter.”

“Oh, that.” Dean blushed. He had the man’s fingers inside him, and he blushed at _that._ “I may have already worked myself there recently.”

Cas stopped moving his fingers, which were scissoring inside of Dean’s hole. “You did this to yourself? Perhaps while thinking…”

“‘bout you, yes.” Dean thought he couldn’t get redder, but there he was.

Cas licked his lips and suddenly pumped his own cock, something he hadn’t done since he started fingering Dean. “I want to see that. Dean, I want to see you doing it.”

Who was Dean to deny such a thing? No one ever asked him that before and, to his surprise, he was totally into it. Besides, he would get Cas jacking off to him, could things get any better?

Castiel handed Dean the bottle of lube while Dean dropped on the bed the leg that was before over Cas’ shoulder. With that, Cas let himself rest back on his ankles, mouth opened, eyes hovering over Dean’s whole body with lust. Dean slicked his finger with lube and positioned his fingers on his rim, not yet putting them inside. His forearm brushed his erection and the friction was both torturous and amazing.

“What do I do?” Castiel asked.

“You just continue to do that and enjoy the show.”

The sinful moan Cas made was already recorded on Dean memory, but it was always amazing to hear live. Dean continued Cas’ previous job while the other man observed him with fervor, hand working fast. Sometimes he stopped and just observed Dean. Soon he grew impatient, just like Dean.

“Dean. Dean...”

“Almost there, sunshine, then you can have me.”

There was no need to guide Cas once Dean was ready. Cas’ hands trembled lightly when he touched Dean’s thighs, adjusting them loosely around his waist. Dean pulled Cas close by his shoulder and kissed him. He had already missed those lips and the sensation of Cas’ tongue claiming his mouth. Staying like that, mouth to mouth, Cas hand brushed Dean’s hole, applying more lube.

“Cas, please.”

“Dean…” And then he pushed himself slowly inside Dean.

Dean wanted to say something, anything, to Cas, but he completely lost the ability to put syllables together in words. They both needed time, physically and emotionally. Cas’ didn’t need to be told when to start to move, he just knew. He kissed one more time before sitting back again. He pulled Dean closer, ass completely on his lap.

“You are gorgeous, Dean.” The words were whispers. “So fucking gorgeous.”

With that, he really started to move. One of his hands attempted to pump Dean, who didn’t let it because he wanted to last as much as possible, so it joined the other on Dean’s hipbones, fingers holding him tight and still. They didn’t only stay in that position, though. After they both needed a moment to catch their breaths and add more lube, Dean moved his back to Cas and stayed on all fours for him.

Every minute it became more difficult to ignore his dick, especially after he fell forward against the mattress, Cas fucking him faster and harder than ever.

“Cas, babe, I want to ride you.”

The idea clearly pleased Cas, who didn’t hesitate on laying down on the bed. They were sweaty, breathless and even though they were having the greatest time, they were tired from the long day and all of its activities. However, in the moment that Dean had Cas completely inside him and he started to move, everything negative was erased from his body and mind. He closed his eyes and all he could feel was Cas, all he could hear was Cas and all he could think was Cas. Cas. Cas. Cas.

Dean only realised he was saying Cas’ name repeatedly when Castiel’s fingers on his hip bone gripped him tighter and tighter while he thrust up, obviously reaching for his orgasm. With that sight, Dean held his member, moving as fast as he moved hip up and down, finding releasing himself. Cas’ eyes got wider and he grinned while Dean’s white cum painted his stomach.

There wasn’t a moment in Dean’s life so far in which he felt that happy, satisfied and loved at the same time. He felt complete, something he never imagined to experience. By the look in Cas’ face, he must have felt the same.

Ignoring the immediate mess on the bed, they showered together. It was a long shower where they took time taking care of each other, showing how their love wasn’t only about sex, even though neither of them ever doubted that.

After Dean changed the sheets to clean ones, they lay down next to each other in silence. Dean noticed that the blue of Cas’ eyes were darker than usual, like a thunderstorm approaching in the sky. So that was what it was to be in love? To think about the other person in flourished sentences? Dean didn’t mind, if he was honest.

Eventually Dean stood up to get them some water. When he was back, his view was Castiel spread on his bed, as relaxed as ever. Sex suited him.

“You look good, Cas.”

“So do you.” Dean offered him a bottle of water and Cas accepted it. “I am not sure how to say this but I have only done this, having sex, once before.”

The astonishment was clear on Dean’s face and he knew that to try to hide it would be a waste of time. How on Earth a person like Castiel Edlund, a handsome, smart, tender, selfless, incredible human being, had been intimate with only one person and only one time? Dean wondered what was wrong with the Capitol people and his question was also his answer: they were from Capitol, qualities like those weren’t much of importance. Dean sat beside Cas and held his hand, circling his palm with his thumb.

“I hope it wasn’t a bad experience, this one time before. With a woman, I imagine.”

“Well, it was nothing like this. Many, many degrees under this. April, she was not nice, nor cared about how I felt. Now I can see crystal clear how much she did not care. Never met someone I was willing to try this again.”

Dean laced their fingers, not knowing how to express how much he felt loved at that moment. Eventually, Dean put away the bottle of water and they laid down, facing each other. It was probably late at night, Dean didn’t even want to know. He brushed his fingers on Cas’ face, the sensation of the growing beard extremely familiar.

“You gave me a much better experience.”

“Don’t need to thank me.”

“Wasn’t intending to.” Dean grinned at Cas’ words, and Cas closed his eyes. “If it is not already implicit, I will be spending the night.”

“Don’t worry, sunshine.”

Dean pulled his comforter to cover them both. Castiel held him with all his body, like an octopus. That maybe was the first time Castiel had sex with someone who cared about him, but deep inside Dean knew it was the same first for him too. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to be surrounded by the man he loved.

When Castiel’s breath became low snores, Dean whispered an ‘I love you’ against Cas’ clavicle. He wished to never let Cas go. He wished to have a life where he could just live without the fear of being killed for what others might consider treason. He wished he had a life where he could live however he liked. Just live. In that moment, Dean decided he would do absolutely anything to reach the life he and Cas very well deserved.

 

 

Soon, both Castiel’s house and Dean’s apartment became home. Those were the only places where they could just be themselves. No faking, no lying, no fear. Plus, the privacy opened some windows Dean was anxious to explore. And that was Castiel’s body.

The exploration of Cas’ anatomy became Dean’s goal in life. Since they had sex for the first time, it became difficult to keep their hands to themselves, so they just didn’t. First because, well, it was sex. Every inch of their bodies turned into their most vivid experience. Every reaction and reflection. Dean was so easily charmed by Castiel, who claimed Dean as his with words and light marks on Dean’s body. Dean was having a new craving of which he had no idea of desiring before.

However, the second reason was stronger, what truly made them want to spend as much time together as they could. Dean didn’t know for how long he would be allowed to stay. The tension in the Capitol increased with the next Games approaching. The Capitol couldn’t hide anymore from their citizens the actions of rebellion that were happening in some of the Districts. After Dean heard what happened to Fergus Crowley, he knew they wouldn’t hesitate if they decided that he was rebelling in the Capitol even though Dean wasn’t actively participating in any rebel movement.

He and Cas spoke about that a couple of times, about participating in the rebellion. They knew it was too dangerous for Claire and Jack if people started to assume Castiel was plotting against the Capitol with Dean. However, whenever that conversation started, they quickly changed the subject, never deciding on what to do if something happened. They knew that the priority was to keep everyone alive, especially the kids. That was enough information.

The expectation for the third Quarter Quell was huge in the Capitol. Lucifer sometimes appeared in the kitchen to remind Dean of the Hunger Games. Dean wanted so much to punch the dude, but he only gave him the usual fake smile.

Dean was alone in his apartment when the screen lit up to the announcement of the Quarter Quell. President Snow stood proudly in front of a huge audience and started talking explicitly about the district’s necessity to be reminded that they would never win control over Panem. With that, he announced that the tributes for that year’s Hunger Games would be reaped from the remaining alive victors.

Because it wasn’t enough to be played in a shitty society and go to a death game to entertain the riches. It wasn’t enough to be put side by side with someone from their own district knowing one of you wouldn’t make it. Not enough to see death in front hand. Become a murderer. Be treated like a pet animal. Honored for spilling innocent blood. No. None of that was enough. They had to make the victors go again. For the first time in his life, Dean thanked the fact that Sam ran away. He thanked Adam died back then and didn’t need to face the horror show again.

He thought about how right it was for the districts to rebel. He just wished he could do something about it too.

 

 

Finnick was again the male tribute from District Four but he seemed so… cool. He came to the kitchen three times since the training started, and that was only the third day of training. Shouldn’t he be out there training or something? Not that Finnick’s company wasn’t pleasant anymore, it was just that Dean had better things in mind. On the fourth of Finnick’s visits, things changed. It was the end of Dean’s shift and probably Finnick’s training was over as well. The victor – tribute – nodded and closed the door to Dean’s part of the kitchen.

“Dean.”

“Mr. Odair.”

Finnick smiled and took a deep breath. “I need you to trust me.”

 _What the fuck was going on?_ “I’m sorry, what?”

“I know where your brother is.”

For a moment, Dean felt his heart stop, like ropes were wrapping it tight and pulling far away from his chest. Then he remembered what he had told Finnick during all those years: Sam was at home, he was in District Four. As if someone undid a knot, the string feeling fade away.

“I know, sir. I told you he’s-“

“No.” The word was incisive. “I know he isn’t. I know.”

Oh shit, he knew. The ropes were back into Dean’s chest. He wanted to ask where, but the words were stuck inside his throat. Stubborn motherfucking words. Then, Dean noticed that his hands were sweating and cold at the same time. He breathed, and the words finally came out.

“Where is Sam?”

“In Thirteen.” Finnick’s words were mere whispers. “In case you don’t believe me, I can prove it.”

Dean’s mind blanked. Thirteen would never ever be an actual option. Whenever Dean thought about the matter, he would always end up with the image of Sam with a long beard and hair living in the middle of the woods. But never, never, at the abandoned district.

“It can’t be. District Thirteen was destroyed in the Dark Days. There’s no way to live there. Bombs. And stuff.”

Finnick got closer and put one hand on Dean’s right shoulder. He didn’t enjoy the touch, like he did once upon a time. “Once when Sam was six and you were ten, you spent two weeks pretending to have developed dog senses whenever you two were alone.”

That was the code. Dean remembered very well. Him and Sam chose that story themselves. They chose that one because Sam hated that story and back then Dean sworn not to tell people if Sam did some small house chores. In fact, Dean had totally forgotten about that story until Sam brought it up a few months after Adam died in the Games.

Sam was alive.

Sam was living in District Thirteen.

“Dean.”

“Fuck. Is it true?”

One of the reasons that made Dean stay in the Capitol was that he believed that it was the best place to hear news about his brother. Either bad or good news, the Capitol always knew about everything. The time has come, and Dean actually had news about Sam, he didn’t know what to do with it. Dean took a few steps away from Finnick, who just waited, patiently. Dean’s mouth opened and closed, not knowing which of his zillion question to ask first.

“How? Why? How do you know all that? How long have you known? Why are you telling me this now?”

There was no surprise on Finnick’s face. “I can’t tell you everything, but we need you, Dean.”

 


	18. The Things We Left Behind

 

The announcement of the Quarter Quell struck down Castiel’s happiness like a wrecking ball. Though he was far from the chance of being Reaped, Cas was too close to the situation to simply ignore it for many reasons.

Mainly, it was clear to him that President Snow had found a way to put Katniss Everdeen in the Arena again in an act designed to target the continuously boiling revolution that had her as their symbol. The first strategy, to feed the citizens, both in the Capitol and in the Districts, with details about her engagement to Peeta Mellark as to portray her vanity had backfired. It had only enraged the rebels even more. The second strike had a deeper tone.

Castiel could never imagine what a victor might be feeling. The horror of going through just one Hunger Game was enough for a lifetime, but the apprehension at the mere possibility that one could be again inside that dreadful place, fighting tooth and nail for their life… It was a nightmare come true. Surprisingly, even the people from the Capitol seemed to dislike having their precious victors thrown inside the Arena once again. To some of them, the surviving victor would be a consecrated winner, the supreme embodiment of heroism, strength and, obviously, brutality. Others mourned the necessary loss of twenty-three idols. Nevertheless, that was the extent of their worrying.

Also, the Quarter Quell put an end to his and Dean’s daily routine. They haven’t seen each other since the day before the announcement and seemed the right move to take. Any mistake now would turn things to a path of death.

Their next encounter happened several days after the announcement, on the Tribute’s first day in the Arena. At Cas’ store, the television was on, not at all by his voluntary choice, broadcasting live the aftermath of the Cornucopia bloodbath.

Dean was sweaty and breathed heavily, Cas noticed it as soon as he quietly entered the store and eyed the close up shot of Finnick Odair’s face currently being shown.

For a second, Cas could swear there was a hint of fright in his eyes, but it disappeared quickly as soon as Finnick was replaced by the male tribute from One.

Something was wrong.

Cas had been attending a couple of customers but left them with Charlie and headed for Dean.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

“Cas, we need to talk.”

Deducing that whatever Dean need to talk couldn’t be said in the middle of the store, Cas guided them to the storage room in the back. He locked the room to ensure their privacy.

“What happened?” Cas asked again, and now he was the one with a hint of dread in his tone. Dean was still nervous, disturbed to a point Cas never had witnessed. He hid his face behind his hands for a few seconds, trying to regain some control, but he wasn’t being very successful. Giving up, he dragged his hands across his hair harshly, painfully, until he let them fall and held one of Cas’ hands instead.  

“So much happened, Cas... I shouldn’t tell you, but I have to. You have to promise that you won’t tell anyone. I’ll believe you if you promise me.”

Cas took a step closer and put his free hand on Dean’s cheek. The stubble was longer than Cas had seen in him, and it pricked his palm, but there it remained. Dean needed that comfort.

“I told you my secrets and you have kept them all. Of course I will not tell.”

Dean closed his eyes and took some long deep breaths. His concern was affecting Cas and had his blood running cold on his veins.

“Remember I told you I knew Finnick, from my district?”

“Yes.”

“We were friends, but he kind of knew my story and I knew how he actually has been a puppet for Capitol like every other victor. I know he doesn’t seem like it, but it is the same as you. If we want to live a life with a reasonable amount of peace, we need to ignore a bunch of shit. I saw Finnick a couple of times since he became this Game’s tribute and before going to the Arena he came to talk to me again. He said the districts are organizing a rebellion. To be specific, District Thirteen is organizing one.”

Cas frowned and tilted his head. “District Thirteen? But District Thirteen was destroyed.”

While saying that, Cas understood.

Dean wouldn’t lie.

“Alright, Thirteen is organizing a revolution. Shit.”

Again the words said out loud made more sense than inside his mind.

“No, not shit. Finally. It was about time this happened. Seventy five editions of mass murder is just enough.” He paused for a while, trying to hold on to one of the many thoughts he had.  Dean, for his surprise, had a sad but proud smile. “Did he say anything else?”

“Yes, he said that this Hunger Games are part of the plans for the revolution, in fact. Many of the older tributes are involved in this, their purpose is to escape the Arena and help the rebels.” He paused to look Cas deep in the eyes. “Finnick asked me to send a signal to them in there. I don’t know what it is, Haymitch, the mentor from Twelve, will tell me later.”

Cas realized then that any plan devised by the rebels to break free from the Arena would be a difficult one. The arena that year was particularly tricky from what he could see in the few hours the Games had started, and obviously trying to escape a place built, run and heavily guarded by the Capitol wouldn’t be an easy task. But despite the gravity of that issue, there were problems closer to them to be worried about.

“I know that being involved is very dangerous and if I’m caught they might kill me. I’m disposable to them. But what I’m really worried about is you, Cas. If they find out about us… About Jack and Claire… I don’t want to put them in danger…”

In a second, Cas’ eyes shot back up. He was still scared deep down, but the possibility of living in a different world, in which they didn’t have to hide who they were or their love and that the kids could be free, that image turned the fear into a tiny detail.

“You have to do this, Dean. If you can help end this, you have to. I will be fine, the kids too. I can ask them to stay hidden and they understand the danger of being here. And if they come for me... I can lie, I have been lying all this time. They have no reason to do anything to me if I don’t know you were from Four or that you helped the rebellion.”

Big fat lie, Cas knew well. The Capitol could still torture and torment hoping to get information even if he swore he didn’t know.

“I will support you until the end and accept any decision you take but… Please take care and…”

 _Don’t die_ , he wanted to say. But the words wouldn’t come out.

“Don’t get hurt.”

Dean nodded, throat closed and eyes brimmed with tears. The green in them was clear and as beautiful as ever, but instead of making Cas’ heart lighter, it sank down even more. He observed Dean’s clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows, trying to act strong even though everything else indicated he was terrified and lacked the courage to say the next words.

Cas wrapped Dean in a hug, because it was what both of them needed. They stayed still a long time, Dean’s hot breath on the Cas’ neck, familiar and intimate, making that moment a little more bearable. Despite everything, they still had each other.

At some point, Dean moved so he could look at Cas again. His eyes were wet after silently shedding his tears on Cas’ shoulder.

“I know you are a reasonable person, Cas. As smart as anybody I’ve ever met. You know what is the safest move for us now.”

He knew, of course. Dean had already mentioned the possibility that he would need to leave the Capitol. He was right, though, it really was the safest option.

“If I do it, they said they’d take me to Thirteen. I’ll be safe there. _You_ are the one in danger.”

“But how can _I_ find protection? I can’t follow you. Moving three people out of the Capitol without them noticing would be a miracle. I can’t go, Dean.”

“I know.” Dean’s voice was low, very low, and full of anger and despair. Cas, that thought he couldn’t feel worse, felt as if thrown down an abyss. “You have to stay. You need to take care of yourself. I’ll be as safe as I can, I promise you. And I also promise I’ll come back to your side, no matter what it takes, and then I’ll never leave you again.”

Dean touched Cas’ cheek again and caressed softly with his thumb for a while.

“There’s something else too.”

“Yes?”

“Sam. Sam is in Thirteen, Cas.”

Though the smile could never reach his lips or his eyes, Cas felt a warm feeling fill his chest. There was still hope after all.

“You always knew he was alive, didn’t you?”

Shaking his head affirmatively, Dean swallowed hard, unable to speak. Silence settled but it wasn’t comfortable, it was heavy, it grabbed hold of Cas’ chest and crushed it, making it hard to breathe.

“Will I see you later?”

Dean rested his forehead on Cas’.

“I don’t know...”

Cas couldn’t speak. He felt the tears welling up and forming a knot in his throat. Soon a few of them were running down his eyes, and that was when Dean pulled Cas closer and kissed his lips.

It wasn’t sexy, it was hard and sorrowful and teary. When they parted, Cas tried to remember everything about it. The pressure of Dean’s hand on his side, his soft lower lip, his scent. There would be a shortage of those things in the coming future.

“I need to leave.” His words were heavy, accompanied by a sigh. The next ones were intimate whispers, a goodbye. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After Dean left, his shoulders slumped as if carrying a heavy burden, Castiel was sure it would be the last time he would see Dean Winchester.

 


	19. Blood Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look who’s here, it’s Sam! Third Part of the story starts here, enjoy.

 

Where Sam saw the fear and disgust, Thirteen saw possibility. The Capitol put Katniss in the spotlight and with that they shot their own foot. Katniss was the symbol of hope. Symbol of change. And that was all that District Thirteen needed to go forward with their plan.

That year’s Game was the Quarter Quell and they knew President Snow would do something devastating. Thinking one step ahead, one of Thirteen’s allies, Plutarch Heavensbee, managed to become the next Game Planner. Sam wasn’t the one in contact with him and because of that he was glad; discussing the Hunger Games planning was something he couldn’t bear to do. How could someone be there witnessing that amount of death knowing they helped plan that?

And in moments like those, Sam truly realized that District Thirteen was almost no better than the Capitol. They didn’t care if another Hunger Games was happening, they only cared about the big opportunity to bring the allied victors to District Thirteen.

Sam was commanded to attend most meetings since the Hunger Games training started. He had an important role when it came to the communication between District Thirteen and the Capitol. Between the allies Sam had contact in the city, there was Finnick Odair, who had a big part in the next step of the rebellion. Sam had to make sure he and the others would be able to come to Thirteen without any communication mistake. They had a plan, a very well thought out plan. They just needed one more detail...

They needed something to let the victors know the plan was ready to be put into action. Something simple, something that the Capitol wouldn’t be able to realize what was happening. They suggested to send something. Something from someone they trusted. Sam suggested a bread.

And that was how Dean became part of the rebellion plan.

 

 

Sam was anxious. It was an odd feeling since he had been living on autopilot for years. He checked his schedule on his skin one more time.

 

_ 7:00 AM – Breakfast _

_ 7:30 AM – Training session _

_ 9:30 AM – Communication Board meeting. _

_ 12:00 AM – Lunch _

 

By lunchtime, Dean would be here, Sam was told. If everything went well. If they weren’t attacked. If they didn’t just leave Dean in the Capitol to die. Positivity wasn’t Sam’s forte. They promised to call him whenever Dean arrived. Lunch time came and passed. Nothing about Dean. Sam had some free time after lunch and his roommate yelled at him to go do something else and stop pacing around their bedroom. So, Sam went training. Half an hour later, he was informed that Dean’s transportation had arrived.

He ran through the gray corridors, hitting people he couldn’t avoid. Sam knew that was against the rules but  _ fuck it _ , his brother was there. When he got to the arrival area, not many people were there, and Dean was easily spotted.

Dean looked almost the same. He was older, of course, but even his hair had the same cut. Sam laughed, the sound immediately called Dean’s attention and he smiled too. It was just like Sam had remembered.

 


	20. Inside Man

 

The 75th Hunger Games was just as horrific as the others before it, but Castiel found himself forced to watch it. Ever since Dean told him that he would be helping in the rebellion that District Thirteen was organizing by sending a signal to the tributes locked in the Arena, he had his attention focused on Finnick Odair whenever he was shown on television, looking for anything that could be a sign. Not that he would know what it meant, but at least was a way of knowing Dean was still alive. And Cas knew immediately when he saw it. The bread from District Four could only be made by him. He was a baker, he was from District Four. It fitted perfectly.

The revolution had started.

Dean didn’t contact Castiel again after their meeting on the first day of the Games, as expected. They should keep a low profile, and so Cas didn’t look for Dean either. On the next two days, all he did was go from home to the store and from there back home, where he spent his time with Claire and Jack. He didn’t tell them about what Dean confided in him because he was still trying to process the existence of Thirteen and thinking how could he keep them all safe. They were watching the Games late one night when the tribute alliance's plan to end the remaining participants went askew and the Arena was destroyed by Katniss’ electrified arrow. After that, the transmission was cut and they were left wondering about what had happened. It was a long time until the Capitol was able to put things together again, releasing a brief statement painting the tributes as criminals, but not much information was published.

None of the three were able to sleep soon or peacefully due to the concern of what was to come. During the next day, at the store, the unexpected ending of the Games was the only subject of talk. Cas was hoping to maybe hear news from Dean. None came.

Later that night, Castiel was making dinner in the company of Claire and Jack, trying to put some normalcy to the weirdness the last hours had been when the doorbell rang. Cas stopped immediately.

“It must be Dean. I will see.” He cleaned his hands in a towel and walked to the window in the living room that faced the street. Through the curtain, he saw a man standing in the doorway. It wasn’t Dean, though. It was his father. “Go down, now.”

He waited a minute to be sure Claire and Jack were locked down and only then opened the front door to find Carver Edlund with a suspicious friendly smile.

“Good night, Castiel. May I come in?”

Cas was speechless, and opened the door more to make room for the man to come inside, and then locked it again.

“I see you are surprised,” Carvel talked while going to the living room which he was still familiar with.

“Of course. You are not the visiting type.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry about that. But maybe we can solve our issues and try to make up for all the time we lost.”

“I doubt that is going to be easy.”

“How are the kids in the bunker doing?”

“What?!” The surprise and terror in Cas’ eyes were unmistakable. Those kids were his most well-kept secret and also a death sentence if they ever were found by the Capitol. And his father _worked_ for the Capitol.

“You really think I wouldn’t put a camera down there? I saw it when you brought the girl in. I must say you took really good care of her, so, congratulations. You would be a much better father than your own.”

Cas was still in shock and couldn’t believe his father’s words.

“What kind of joke is this?”

“Don’t lie to me, it will be better and faster if we speak only the truth.”

It was Cas’ turn to not reply. Fear was taking over his mind and he had to make a big effort to not budge.

“Will you hand them to the Capitol?”

“No, I’m here to tell you I’m on your side.”

“On my side? You?”

“Yes, on your side. I just work for those brainwashed morons, I’m not one of them. Listen, I’m here on a peace mission, okay? I’ve hidden things from you for far too long and now I almost feel like it’s too late.”

Carver paced up and down, clearly trying to figure out how to say things. Cas, on the other hand, had calmed down a little: he said he wouldn’t betray him and something about it made him believe it.

“This is the beginning of a rebellion,'' he started, tentatively at first but gaining confidence as he spoke, “and I’m helping it from inside the government. I’m sort of a spy. Plutarch is on this thing too, he was our commander on this part of Panem, so you can trust him.” Carver noticed Cas wasn’t slightly surprised. “You already knew about it.”

Cas looked at his father for several seconds, trying to decide if he should lie or tell the truth. Dean had asked him not to tell anyone about his secrets, but would he fail his promise if he talked about it with someone who _already knew_ the secret? Slowly, Cas moved his head up and down, confirming he was aware about the rebellion.

“Of course, you know. I bet the baker told you, right?”

And he knew about Dean, too.

“He just wanted to be honest and warn me about the danger.”

“That boy has a good head. And he was right, you _are_ in danger. But not from what you think. The Capitol may not find your secrets but you can still taste the power of the revolution that’s coming. Listen, what I’m saying is…” He walked to the couch, sat down and rested his elbows on his knees, running his hands on his face. “I don’t know what is coming or what is going to happen now, but you can be sure the Capitol is not going to sit and wait for the rebels to take over. They’ll try to repel it, they already are, you can see the punishments they are broadcasting on television. What you should be worried about is the counteractions of the rebellion. They will not hesitate to fight back and attack the Capitol. If this comes to happen, you may be in danger outside the bunker. There’s room for three people in there. Sleep with your kids, stay there, protected, as much as you can. I may not be able to warn you in time about what is coming. There is also a device I made many years ago. It works in a different frequency from the system of the Capitol. We can use it to communicate in a safe way.”

Cas couldn’t speak. His father seemed like a completely different person from whom he had known his entire life. Despite having such a troubled relationship, after all he said, in seemed right and he didn’t find it hard to believe and trust the man. Finally, Castiel looked at him with a smile, the first he gave him in a very, very long time.

“Alright, we will do this.”

Carver stayed there for hours on that day. They had a long talk when Carver explained what he did inside the Capitol, how Plutarch approached him when he was made Head Gamemaker for the Quarter Quell, how they’ve been working with the people from Thirteen, handing them secrets and privileged information about Snow’s plans.

Eventually, Cas gathered courage and asked. “Since when have you been acting behind the Capitol’s back? I know you did your things in the bunker, and that I understand but… What we are doing, this is treason.”

“Do you remember when left the Head Gamemaker job? You were so young, I don’t think you would’ve noticed, but I was changed. I did things then that I… I regretted. I felt the burden of the deaths in my shoulders and thought that ending my life would be a deserving punishment. One day I realized nothing would change if I died, and just decided I should make my life worth it. But I could never really do anything alone like you’ve been doing, so, effectively, I became a rebel only after Plutarch came to me.”

“Well, now I can see where my strong will comes from, father.” Cas couldn’t help but smile. “And how is mom?”

Carver chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Uh, just as oblivious as ever. She’s just so sad Panem lost so many beauties from the Games and keeps saying the Capitol will smite the Districts again if needed, or whatever else that empty headed of her friend tells her. She doesn’t know anything, of course. Maybe it’s probably the safest way for her.”

“I still do not understand one thing. How did you know about Dean and me?”

“Well… This is kind of awkward…” Carver scratched the back of his neck and he indeed looked embarrassed. “There’s a camera here too, on the entrance. I never meant to spy on your private life, and I looked at it the least possible but lately I just wanted to make sure you were safe. When I saw that you brought him here, I imagined you should know him very well.”

With the conversation, slowly the trust was restored between them and Cas even took Carvel to meet Claire and Jack in the bunker. They feared, at first, having heard a lot about how Cas’ relationship with his family was, but Carver was so glad to meet them, almost feeling like they were his grandchildren, as the kids quickly trusted him too. He taught them all how to use the device for communication, as well as other secrets down there, such as a hidden weapon compartment, and changed the doorbell system, so it could be heard down there.

Before leaving, Carver gave his son a tight hug.

“I’m sorry for treating you that way, and ignoring you in public…”

“No, I am sorry too. I was the black sheep of the family, right? Grandma knew to keep her thoughts, but I know I was a handful as a kid. And you only wanted to keep the appearances to keep us safe, I see it now. I sort of became you.”

“I’ve always been proud of you, you know?”

Cas just smiled. He didn’t feel pride for his actions. He thought he could and should do much more, and that that was nothing to be proud of; it was only the right thing to do.

It was late when Carver left, and Cas had his mind full. The last days had been a turning point in his life, not to mention crazy, and he wished to share his thoughts with Dean the same way he had shared his secret with him. It seemed a good thing that they could count on his father and his rebellion companions, providing a source of hope amidst the eminence of another Dark Days.

But Dean still never appeared again, and Cas didn’t dare to look for him that late and when all the turmoil of the last Games was still so fresh.

He should be careful. So careful he would be.

 


	21. Stranger in a Strange Land

 

It felt like Dean’s feet couldn’t touch the floor. He just didn’t feel them. Every step taken away from Wine Heaven obliterated a part of Dean’s body, first the feet then his hands. Soon, when he approached home, Dean was pretty sure his lungs gave up on air and decided just to work without it. It hurt so much, physically and emotionally, but Dean did not go back to the liquor store.

Dean wondered how in hell Sam was able to leave Four when he was just sixteen. It was taking every cell of his will power to force himself not to go back to where he felt wanted. But no. That was more important. That could be the key to a future where they didn’t need to hold back. Claire and Jack could be happy and safe with their families. Him, Cas, Sam, John and Bobby could just be a family, together. Dean cried and punched a wall, but he resisted. He was not giving any of that up his efforts.

During that night, Dean thought a lot about his father and his uncle back at District Four. He wished to tell them he was right: Sam was freaking alive, just like Dean said a hundred thousand times during those years. Dean wished John and Bobby to stay put and safe, but he knew those men and they definitely would join the fight. Dean was proud, honestly. Someday, he would get the chance to tell them about his part in the rebellion and they would be proud too.

The next day, Dean went to the Hunger Games’ training facility like nothing had happened, though he was half dead on the inside. The routine was as untroubled as usual, like it was mocking Dean’s life. The kitchen was quiet and somehow lifeless. The city was full of Peacekeepers, but not there. No surveillance of any kind, a Capitol mistake, of course, thinking that bakers wouldn’t possibly hurt them. That was probably how Haymitch Abernathy, mentor of Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark from District Twelve, got there unnoticed. They faced each other for a few seconds, none sure if the other was trustworthy. Dean stayed still until the other spoke.

“Look, I know what happened to you.” Haymitch declared without much patience. “I know why you came to the Capitol. I know about your brother, about what happened to some of your fellow friends, like Fergus Crowley. I know how it is to live with the fucking crazy Capitol people.”

Dean still didn’t speak. He wouldn’t agree or deny anything even if it was Finnick himself in front of him. Not when a simple word said wrong could put Cas or his family at Four in danger. Dean’s trust in Haymitch was little, just enough to make him jump into this crazy District Thirteen plan.

“I’ll need you to do something very simple, but extremely important.”

Dean’s felt his mouth dry. He nodded in a slow motion, considering Haymitch’s words. “And you trust me, just like that?”

“No, kid, I don’t. But that’s business, right?”

Haymitch was very intimidating. Full of hand  gestures and a whisper that hit Dean like bullets. “They’ll ask you to send a bread to the arena. You’ll send the fish-shaped one. The one from Four. Understand?”

“What do I get by doing this?”

“I assure you that I will personally get you to District Thirteen, where your brother is. And I know you know all that, let’s cut the bullshit, alright? I don’t really know you, Dean, but I already heard about how much you want to cooperate. We need fighters like you.”

Following his personal policy, Dean didn’t deny, agreed or disagreed with anything said. Haymitch must had taken his words as an agreement, because he grabbed one of the pastries from a counter and walked towards the door. Before he opened it to leave, he said. “You will know when the time comes.”

 

  

When the time came, everything happened real fast. One moment, he was separating a fish-shaped bread and in the next he was in a hovercraft. No one had mentioned he would have to fly his way to District Thirteen, but Dean didn’t ask any questions before, anyway. Dean only didn’t freak out about flying because he was too worried about Castiel. He hoped with his actions he wouldn’t have compromised his boyfriend’s safety, was well as Jack’s and Claire’s. There wasn’t much he could do anymore, only hope.

Dean managed to sleep during their way to the new District, but he highly suspected someone put something in his water. Someone had to wake him up and inform him they had arrived at Thirteen. Dean couldn’t see anything outside the plane and when the hovercraft’s door opened he was already inside somewhere. Dean felt so alien in that place. He could be at District Thirteen as well as in any other place, every detail was absolutely unknown. He followed the flux of people – three more besides him. Before he could try to recognize anybody, Dean heard an unmistakable laugh, one he couldn’t have sworn he had forgotten. He was proved wrong.

_ Sam was so freaking tall! _

Dean smiled, he didn’t even try not to. He deserved it. Sam started to pace fast towards him and he did the same. When they finally reached the other, they couldn’t do nothing but hug.  _ So tall! So much hair! _ Dean didn’t want to let go, and it seemed that neither did Sam. They hugged for a long time, until Dean noticed Sam sniffing on his shoulder.

“Hey, little bro.” He said, and it made Sam ugly snort, a mixture between a sniff and laughter. “Not so little anymore, huh?”

“Dean, you look just like the same.” Sam’s voice changed too, but not so drastically like his physique. Dean was still not over the fact that Sam was a grown man. “I can’t believe you are finally here.”

“Well, did you just expect me to guess that a sixteen year old kid quit the District and went up all the way to Thirteen, a place that didn’t exist to me until like one week ago, and he grew up tall and all important?”

In every word Dean spoke the lines in Sam’s face showed his emotions. Worry. Sadness. A bit of anger. Shame. Finally, he cleaned his throat and looked down before speaking, “Dean, here’s not place to talk about it.”

“Sure. Sure. Because you know all about this place, uh? And I was working my ass off wondering if you were even alive.”

Arguing with Sam was not in Dean’s plans. He was all about seeing his little brother alive and well, but when Dean saw Sam, it hit him: Sam was alive and well. He didn’t need any of Dean’s worries or efforts. Did Sam even need him there, anyway? Or was he just a little piece of this huge and messy puzzle?

“Dean, I’ll try to explain it all. You just gotta calm down.” Sam got a bit closer, whispering. “This is not Panem but it’s not a piece of cake, don’t be puzzled. If you don’t wanna trust me later, I can’t force you, but trust me with this one: you gotta follow me for now.”

Of course he would go after Sam, there wasn’t even the slightest doubt about that. Because Dean had no baggage, he just tucked his hands inside the same jeans he was wearing while working and went after Sam.

Dean’s first impression of the place was how it looked like an ugly labyrinth. Maybe the infinite corridors did have a logical pattern, but for Dean they were all a bunch of gray walls with random doors to more gray walls or gray rooms. Soon, more people showed up. Most of them greeted Sam with a polite nod, avoiding direct eye contact. Sam nodded back to all of them, even to the ones that weren’t looking anymore. Most people wore the same gray outfit, something like a jumpsuit. Honestly, the place looked much like a prison.

After ten minutes of walking in silence, Dean noticed they were arriving to a different area. There were clearly corridors and more corridors of compartments like bedrooms. Most of them had their doors closed, but the ones opened confirmed Dean’s suspicion.

“How does this thing work?” He asked, not bearing the silence anymore.

“Uh, every compartment has two singles. Most people are paired up already. We don’t choose.”

“Are you?”

“I have a roommate. He is one of the doctors, he’s almost never there and when he is I try to leave him alone to study. Today, he kicked me out.”

“Not a nice dude to share a room with.”

“He’s okay, just 24/7 concentrated. We try not to bother each other.”

Dean felt a little disappointment. Maybe he was a little mad at Sam, but it didn’t mean he didn’t want to be his roommate. 

Damn, he missed Cas so much already. That made Dean think about something. “It’s always just two single beds?”

“No, I think the couples have a double. But after the civil ceremony I guess, not sure, though.”

“What? There’s no dating here? Are you still a virgin?”

Sam stopped in front of a door and turned to Dean, giving him the classic bitch face he used when he was a teenager. “Dean, if you, by any chance, don’t know this already, I will make it clear: I am not discussing my sex life with you.”

Dean grinned, happy to be able to piss off Sam just like he used to do in the old days. Sam opened the door and Dean noticed it wasn’t locked. There was no one in the room, which meant they had to leave it unlocked. The beds were arranged the same way Sam and Dean had theirs back at District Four. Sam sat on the right one while Dean took the left. Sam looked down, guilt written all over him. Dean just waited.

“Look, Dean. I know what I did was messed up. But I couldn’t deal with it anymore. All I could think of was how I should’ve volunteered as tribute when Adam was reaped. He was younger than me and he honestly had no chance. He was so desperate that day. And dad too, he never said it, but I know he thought I was weak because I didn’t volunteer. And then it seemed like everyone was judging me. They all knew that if it were you to go to the Games I would’ve done it, I would’ve volunteered.”

There were so many wrong things about what Sam said that Dean didn’t even know where to begin. Dean didn’t say a word and with the silence as reply, a tear fell from Sam’s eye. It was a heartbreaking scene to watch, but Dean had his heart broken already.

“It consumed me, and I didn’t know what to do. And I want to say that running away wasn’t a well thought thing, but it was. I’m alive just because a District Thirteen native found me. Now I understand how lucky I was. Dean, I had no idea of what I was doing, but I was certain that I was doing the right thing.”

“You weren’t, Sam,” Dean voice was hoarse when he spoke. “We could’ve done something together. You had me. And we had Uncle Bobby and Dad. We would’ve have figured out a way.”

“I know.” More small tears dropped from Sam’s eyes, but he didn’t make any sound other than speaking. “I know that now. And I swear I wish I knew that before. Thirteen is not perfect but Panem is worse. You lived in the Capitol, it must be hell on Earth.”

“I did work for a guy named Lucifer.”

Sam chuckled in between some of the tears. “Right, I heard about that, too.”

“Hey, how much did you hear about my life in the Capitol?”

“Just the basics. Your work, apartment.” Sam paused, cleaning the remaining tears now that he wasn’t crying anymore. “I want you to know that I don’t judge you for working for the Capitol or in the Games. We have to do what we can to survive and protect our own.”

That was true. That was the reason that took Dean the Capitol and then to District Thirteen. Sam was as much a victim as Dean was, they were all in the same boat.

Dean stood up and pulled Sam up by the shoulder for a hug. They shouldn’t fight, there was a much bigger enemy for them to defeat. Dean let the hug run a bit longer before he let his brother way.

“It’s okay, Sammy.’

 

It didn’t take long for Dean notice how District Thirteen’s citizens were blind when it came to Panem. Even after the 75 th Hunger Games’ tributes arrival right after Dean’s, nothing changed. Dean knew what was happening in the nation, only because Sam sometimes took time to tell him. Other than that, he just had to follow the schedule.

His first assignment was the kitchen. Dean was a fantastic baker, but they didn’t need his special pies or delicious pastries. They needed food and Dean was as good in it as anybody else. When he wasn’t in the kitchen, he was training. His ability with weapons was innate, though his work with it was nothing compared to Sam’s. The kid could aim!

What put Dean in the spot were his fighting skills. Because he was naturally strong, his muscle memory from when he used to swim soon came back and it didn’t go unnoticed. Dean was an easy learner and two weeks after his arrival he was officially promoted to a soldier in training. His schedule now was very different than his previous one, and he was barely able to see Sam, who was equally busy. If he wasn’t working, he was training, and if he wasn’t doing any of those, he was sleeping. Dean had never worked so much, not even when he was at Four.

Some of the soldiers tried to befriend Dean but it didn’t work out very well. Dean was developing a serious trust issue by being in a place where no information was given at all.

A month later, Dean was promoted and started working as a melee instructor. The words whispered behind his back were about him only getting the position because he was Sam’s brother. Dean’s proved gossipers wrong by being an extremely talented teacher. Soon his classes were full of people wanting to learn with him tactics to make improvements.

Having a new position meant new challenges, a new routine, and a greater amount of responsibilities. But between the perks of a higher role, he finally had access to more information about the rebellion. The group of people that arrived a little after Dean got to Thirteen was justified by the Capitol bombing District Twelve to the ground. Those were the only survivors. One of them became Dean’s roommate, Arthur Ketch, but they rarely spoke, maybe only during trainings, because Ketch also became a soldier. More recently, another bombing happened, at District Eight. The rebellion was becoming more and more dangerous. Dean and everybody else were training harder everyday to fight for their lives and freedom.

Other than being more informed and being one of the head trainers, Dean’s schedule had a few empty spaces. He only realized it after a month and a half had passed since he left the Capitol. Dean was a very different person. His muscles were much more defined, he had let his beard grow. He was glad to get to see more of Sam and sometimes talk about nothing of importance. But there was one constant in his life that didn’t change: Castiel.

Dean was a grown man and was able to live a life without depressing himself because the person he cared the most was somewhere else. But his worry was painful. In the beginning, when he was just a soldier, he used to be so tired that when he hit the bed he would just sleep. However, as soon as his scheduled lightened up, he had more time to acknowledge the pain that was already there. He had time to imagine what might have happened with Cas and the kids and his  treacherous mind would put them lifeless somewhere because of him.

He decided it was time to tell Sam about Cas; maybe he could help and get some information. They had a gun training session together that day, not as an instructor, as they were both training their aim. The session was quiet, but they always chatted after it.

“I heard that guy Thompson twisted his ankle last training with you, is that true?” Sam asked.

“Damn, you guys gossip like old ladies, did you know that?” Sam chuckled, and they headed out. “You going to shower?”

“Yeah, I think my roommate is working, just gotta enjoy the opportunity for a longer shower.”

Dean only nodded and followed Sam. His brother’s compartment was on the way of his own, and they chatted while they walked. When they finally arrived, Sam opened the door, but Dean didn’t continue walking.

“Dean? Do you need something?”

“I kinda of, sort of need a favor…”

“A favor?” Sam’s forehead frowned, obviously finding Dean’s request odd. “Sure, no problem, come on in.”

They sat on the same beds they did when Dean arrived: Dean on the left and Sam on the right. Sam was clearly curious, but he didn’t rush his brother.

“I need information about someone in the Capitol. I need to know if this person is safe.”

“Someone? You mean like… Someone important to you?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“No! It’s just- I mean- I had people with eyes on you for years now and they never mentioned anything about someone with you. Some friends, okay, but no one like  _ that _ .”

“Maybe because it’s none of your damn business.”

“Hey, quit the sass. I’m your brother, of course I want to know about you and some special girl enough to make you still be worried after almost two months.”

Oh, true, he needed to come out to his brother, too. In theory, something easy to do. Dean closed his eyes and sighed. However, when he opened his mouth, a siren started to play.

“What the fuck?”

_ This is a code red alert. Please, remain calm and begin evacuation protocol. _

“Dean, it’s a raid drill. Something is happening.”

_ Proceed to your nearest stairwell and descend to level 40. Blast doors will be _ _ sealed in six minutes. _

“Well, fuck, let’s go, Sam!”

They left Sam’s compartment walking as fast as they could, but not running. It wasn’t up to their functions in the District to help with the emergency raid, so they just followed the instructions. People appeared from every door, most of them scared but calm, and soon Dean and Sam were surrounded by a crowd.

The 40 th level was filled with bunk beds and disorientated people. The brothers stopped at the first empty bunk bed and sat side by side on the lower one. Not long after the six minutes were over, something hit the bunker. The walls shook and the lights flickered. It happened again. And again. And again.

They were being bombed.

One hour later, Dean and Sam were still in the same position. For Dean, the rebellion became real that night. He wasn’t blind about the danger and what he was risking, but only that night he realized how easily he could die by the hands of Panem. The Hunger Games were never really over.

After the waves of bombs, the lights were working again and people seemed less stressed. They wouldn’t let them go back to their compartments until morning, as they were afraid of more attacks. Sam eventually jumped to the upper bed to try to get some rest. Dean tried the same, but his body was too tense, his muscles did not respond properly to his commands.

From afar, Dean could see Finnick. He looked a lot different from the Finnick Odair that used to flirt with him once upon a time. There was something in his hand and instantly Dean knew what it was, a picture of Annie Cresta. She was a victor from District Four as well. Sam had told Dean that Annie was arrested by the Capitol because of her relationship with Finnick after they broke out from the Arena. That consumed Finnick and he was always one step away from a breakdown.

Dean observed how Finnick ran his hands over the picture and wished he had one of Cas. A woman approached Finnick and sat beside him, just like Sam and Dean were moments before. There was no mistake, that was Katniss Everdeen. She looked as wrecked as anybody else. She was still between the teen years and adulthood and she had the weight of a mountain on her back already. In addition to her worries, Peeta, her husband or whatever, was also in the Capitol’s hands. Finnick and Katniss shared that kind of pain. Dean overheard people saying that the Capitol was broadcasting an interview with Peeta just before the bombing started and he was the one to alert Thirteen. Peeta was probably being tortured for information, just like Annie.

Of course, at that thought, the scenario that painted Dean’s mind was Castiel being held by the Capitol because Dean was with the rebels. The lack of information regarding Cas was killing him. He needed to ask Sam that favor.

“Sam? You awake?”

“Yes.” Sam answered with a steady voice, obviously not even close to being asleep. “Something’s wrong?”

“No. It’s just… Can you come down here for a second?” Sam’s reply was to go back to his previous spot, next to him. Dean continued. “It’s about that favor.”

“Right! Who’s the girl?”

“What?”

“The one you want information on. Is it serious between you two?”

“It is- was.” Dean paused “Rebellion and all, you know, just too complicated.”

Sam’s brows drew closer together and his eyes got a bit bigger. Classic puppy face. Dean smiled, but it was small and quickly. “It’s okay.”

Only it wasn’t. Dean was in a bunker about to be bombed to death at any minute and Castiel was in the Capitol in the same position, probably. Dean’s hands started to sweat despite of him feeling them completely cold. He tried very hard to control his breathing and to make his change of behavior to go unnoticed. It didn’t work.

“Hey, Dean, are you ok?”

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah, right, spit it out.”

“When did you become so demanding?” Dean was gifted with a bitch face. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Why didn’t I ever hear about her?”

“It’s a him, Sam.”

“Oh. Okay, him, ’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Just like you said: you didn’t know. Not your fault, then.”

Sam nodded, and Dean was glad that Sam didn’t ask any weird questions because there was absolutely no need for that. So Dean continued.

“You never heard about him because he’s from the Capitol. We kept it a secret because he hated the Capitol and after the 74 th , well, you know what happened to the people from the districts living in the Capitol.”

“Yeah, I know. But why he didn’t come with you?”

“It’s… Complicated.”

Dean loved his brother and trusted him with his life, but he wouldn’t tell Castiel’s secrets in the middle of a room full of unknown people. Sam, of course, had the same track of thoughts and didn’t ask any more questions about that matter.

“Okay. Tell me about him.”

_ Hell no _ was Dean’s first thought. But then he realized how he was feeling his hands acting normal again and that was because he was finally verbalizing Cas. He had been for so long only thinking about him that it started to sound like an unreal dream. And  _ just because of that _ Dean decided to speak.

“He’s the most generous person I’ve ever met. He’s smart, like, even his jokes are smart. But he still laughs at my stupid puns. You two would get along just fine.”

“Dean. You really like this guy. He is very important to you, isn’t he?”

“He is. That’s why I’m asking you to please check on him.”

Sam rested one hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I will, don’t worry.”

 


	22. Absence

 

District Thirteen had been bombed a few days before and despite that nothing worrisome had happened, everyone’s behavior included being ready to flee in case of another attack. It wasn’t any different for the Winchester brothers. More work was demanded from both of them and they barely had time to talk other than the meals in the cafeteria. Dean was clearly very tired and worried about his boyfriend (even though Dean never called Castiel that, at least in front of Sam).

Sam didn’t know how to reach Castiel without putting him in danger.

Usually the connections between District Thirteen and the Capitol were thought to every tiny detail and at that point, with more and more Districts joining the rebellion, it was impossible to contact someone without a proper plan. His second thought included asking someone of his trust to contact Castiel. Later, Sam decided against it. It was probably too dangerous for Castiel as well.

He wanted to give Dean news as soon as possible, but he had no new ideas as to how to contact Cas. Maybe it was time to rehearse an apology speech.

It was around that time when Plutarch Heavensbee approached Sam after one of the Communication Board meetings. Heavensbee didn’t attend the meeting, but he was in the corridor when it finished. Sam was one of the firsts to leave the room and he was caught by surprise when Mr. Heavensbee called him by his last name.

“Winchester.” Sam stopped to face the man. They had never talked before and Sam couldn’t think of any reason to change that. “I want to talk to you.”

Sam just nodded and waited. After the room where the meeting was attended was empty, they entered it, Heavensbee closed the door. They sat one in front of the other.

“Mr. Edlund has been asking about a ‘Mr. Winchester’ from District Four. Is that you?.”

“‘Edlund’ as in ‘Castiel Edlund’?”

“No, as in Carver Edlund. You may know him as Chuck. Used to be one of your informants before the Quarter Quell.”

“Chuck?”

Sam remembered Chuck. They talked maybe once or twice a month for at least a year before Sam was assigned with the Communication Planning and Administration., right after the 75th Hunger Games. Chuck was deeply infiltrated in the Capitol’s government, he always had important information to share, but they haven’t spoken since. Sam was aware that Chuck was a pen name, but how on Earth would he ever guess the man was somehow related to Castiel?

“Is Chuck- Carver- related to Castiel?”

“Yes.” Heavensbee eyed Sam with caution, deciding if he should share the information or not. “Carver is Castiel’s father.”

Oh. _Oh_. That was his chance to finally get his info on Cas.

“How’s he? Castiel?”

“He’s alive. I don’t know much, but I can assure you he’s fine. Do you know him?”

“No. My brother did.  He used to live in the Capitol, that’s probably the Winchester Mr. Edlund is looking for.”

 

 

After being sure that Plutarch would pass along the information to Castiel that Dean was fine as well, the first thing Sam wanted to do was to tell Dean the news. However, work called, and the day passed by. During dinner, holding the information was almost impossible, but Sam kept it to himself, knowing that Dean wouldn’t appreciate Castiel’s name being brought up in the middle of a public room. As usual, they walked together to their compartments after the meal, stopping by Sam’s first.

“Dean, Heavensbee talked to me today.”

“Really? I kind of met the guy once. We didn’t talk, but he knew Cas.”

“Yeah, right, about that…”

Dean stopped and grabbed Sam’s forearm with much strength. Jaw clenched, eyes widened, and face looking much alike the gray wall behind them. That was Sam’s view of that moment.

“Easy, easy. I have news about him. Good news.”

There wasn’t any immediate response from Dean. Dean, who had sharp reflex while fighting and a brain full of bright ideas, cleared blanked with the possibility of hearing bad news about Castiel.

It had been almost ten years without seeing his brother, but Sam remembered Dean as a teenager and young adult and being with other people. Even if what his brother had back then wouldn’t probably be qualified as relationship, Dean had never behaved like that, like if the other was an extension of himself. It was intense, Dean didn’t need to put in words to make that clear to Sam, his actions were enough. Blame the young ages, blame the rebellion, whatever, the fact was that Dean was in love with that Castiel guy. And Sam was honestly and deeply happy for his brother.

Before Sam had the chance, Dean opened the door to Sam’s room and stormed inside in a search for Sam’s roommate, who was still at the cafeteria, as Sam checked before leaving.

“Good news, you were saying?”

Dean was anxious. He had his hands laced together in front on his chest. His eyebrows almost together considering how much he was frowning his forehead. The posture was lost a bit, so much different from Dean, the melee instructor, part of the army of District Thirteen. He was completely vulnerable at that moment.

“Yes. Heavensbee said Castiel is fine. I’m sorry I don’t have more information, but he guaranteed that Castiel is alive and safe.”

Dean’s face lit up and he dropped his head back, laughing with relief. Sam laughed too, Dean’s relief and happiness were very contagious. They stayed like that for maybe a whole minute before Dean was able to control himself and steady his breathing.

“Sam. You’re awesome.”

The brothers looked at each other for a few seconds, both smiling in such an honest way that Sam hasn’t witnessed for a while now. Dean took one step closer and rested his hand on Sam’s neck for a few seconds, just like he used to do back in Four. It meant how much Dean was proud of Sam. With no other words said, Dean left the room, smiling like crazy.

 

 

Little by little, the Rebel side was getting stronger. The achieved victories did not come without blood, though, but the Districts of Panem were united against the same enemy.

But there was District Two.

Sam never had much contact with District Two, though he knew enough to understand why having Two as their ally was something important. Two was the source of every Military supply, in other words, the Capitol was only able to fight the districts because of Two. Having District Two join the rebellion wouldn’t mean the immediate cease of the Capitol’s military power, as they probably had supplies stocked, but it would help to end it, eventually.

And for that reason, getting District Two on their side became one of the main goals of District Thirteen, communication team included.

The initial idea was to take over a place they called ‘The Nut’, where the Capitol’s military force had their base. It was located inside a mountain, somewhere very difficult to infiltrate. There were many attempts to do so, none of them successful.

Sam didn’t know the details of the attacks, but Dean commented that they had lost few soldiers in them. That was why Sam didn’t like when Dean told him that he was assigned to go to District Two with the Mockingjay. Wherever the Mockingjay went, tragedy followed her somehow.

He hated the idea of being separated from his brother, however there was nothing he could do but collaborate to make the mission work that time. Sam’s team established good connections between Thirteen and their allies in Two. His personal wish was to sneak a communicator to Dean, but of course, it wasn’t possible.

Sam visited Dean in his compartment the night before his brother left. They didn’t talk much, there was no need. The fear was clear, but the silent obligation to sacrifice for the greater good was bigger. Sam didn’t like it, but he understood.

The next night, many people were in the main communication room checking on the mission in District Two. Sam wasn’t allowed to be there, as he worked more with the planning than with action itself and the room was already packed with people.

The worry was almost unbearable.

It was a sleepless night. Sam remembered the first nights after he left Four. The fear. Regret. The fading hope. But Sam was a grown man completely aware of the danger Dean was put in, which made things worse. Again, he understood, but all he wanted was for his brother to come back safe so they could fall into their also considerably safe routine.

And he wished for other things, too. He wished to be in Four. He wished to have more information about his father and Bobby. He knew they joined the rebellion, but that was it. He wished… He wished for things to be different.

 

 

Fuck, Sam was so damn right to worry. In the morning, someone informed him that the plan went well but Katniss was shot - but it was broadcasted that she died - and few other soldiers too: Dean included.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me as soon as they got back here?”

Sam’s voice raised, and the other man’s eyebrows went up in surprise. Not waiting, Sam rushed through the gray corridors until he reached the infirmary. He was spotted immediately and one of the nurses stopped him from entering any further.

“Sir, you can’t go inside. We have several people being treated in there.”

“But my brother is in there. I have to see him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“ _ Fine? _ You mean that he went to a war zone and got injured and he is  _ fine _ ? He’s a damn baker, not soldier! He needs me in there.”

Someone stepped closer to them and touched the nurse’s elbow. It was a girl, a young teenager, also dressed as a nurse. She had long, blonde hair, divided in two braids. She didn’t look at Sam, but he knew that her next words were meant for him.

“I just spoke to his brother. I can take it from here.”

The mountain Sam didn’t know he had on his shoulders suddenly disappeared. Whatever happened to Dean, he was okay. The first nurse whispered ‘o _ kay, Miss Everdeen’ _ and reluctantly moved away from them. When alone, the girl looked Sam in the eyes.

“Are you brother of Dean Winchester?”

“Yes. Is he…”

“He’s good. Under observation. Got shot in the left shoulder, dislocated it too. The bullet was removed, shoulder put back in place. He will be fine.”

“Can I see him?”

She smiled, honestly saddened. “I’m sorry, you are not allowed. And I understand how much you want to see him. My sister was injured in the battle too. All I wanted to do was to make sure she was okay.”

“And is she?”

“She’s good. She has a lot to deal with. Lots of pressure. But for now, she’s good.”

“Good.” Sam made a pause, trying to organize his thoughts. “When can I see him?”

“When he goes to his compartment. Today, I believe.”

“Alright. Thanks.” Sam was about to leave when something bugged him. “How did you know I was Dean’s brother?”

“He asked for his, and I quote, ‘immensely tall, long haired, moose face brother’ _. _ ”

“Oh. That sounds like Dean.”

The girl offered a sad smile. Someone called her and she turned around, telling them she was going in a minute. She eyed Sam one more time.

“Your brother is safe. You don’t need to worry anymore.”

“Hope your sister heals well, too.”

“Thank you.”

The girl left through the door to the infirmary. She was just a kid and there she was, facing war injuries, death, and still had to deal with a sister wounded in battle. He understood the feeling.

It was only when Sam reached the cafeteria that a bell rang inside his head.  _ Miss Everdeen _ . Just like in Katniss Everdeen. She was the Mockingjay’s sister.

 


	23. Nightmare

 

Dean didn’t come back. Days passed and slowly things went back to normal, or as normal as it could be. Cas feared they would come for him anytime now, but that also never happened. He moved to the bunker with the kids and they started to store food, just in case they were stranded in the bunker. Despite that, Cas kept on with his life, at least on the facade.

In secret, Cas and his father began to map the city, identifying government buildings, underground passages, monitoring cameras and placing makers for the location of pods, old and new. His father was assigned to the development of the new ones, and for those they not only knew exactly where they were, but also what was the trap.

Cas was especially communicative with his customers, using his position of influence to extract information about what was Snow’s next trip or where he would be in a certain day. Those details he would transfer to his father, and he would pass it along to District Thirteen. He never spoke with anyone from there, only Carver had such privilege.

When he was alone, Cas could let it all crumble and allow himself to feel what he would hide even from the kids and his father. The absence of Dean had a much bigger effect over him than he would let show. On the outside, he would look determined, strong and dedicated to the mission with his father. He was all that, sure, but Cas also missed Dean deeply. His touch, his smell, his presence, everything about him. His love for him never diminished and it was the thought of being with him after all the mess was over that kept him going. Because during all that time since he last saw Dean, Cas never heard from him, but also never found anything that indicated Dean could be dead.

It didn’t help one bit that the bombing of District Thirteen was televised to all Panem. Cas watched, hands over his mouth, as bomb after bomb smote the surface part of the old District. It was a long time before the smoke cleared and a crater many feet deep could be seen where once stood part of the construction. If the underground also collapsed, there was no way of knowing.

Cas spent a terrible night in agony that only subsided in the next morning, when a television propo by the rebels showed they had survived despite Snow’s intent to wipe Thirteen once more. Taken by relief in the empty store, Cas pulled Charlie closer in a hug they both need.

Lately, with most of the Districts pairing with Thirteen, many supplies were short in the Capitol. Fresh fruit and vegetables were impossible to find. Many other products were scarce if their production was somehow related to the work made by other Districts, such as industrialized goods that needed coal from Twelve, that had been decimated by the Capitol after the end of the Quarter Quell. Luxury products were also shortening. It had been weeks since the last shipment arrived with new beverages for Cas’ store because that production was also affected by the absence of fruit, seeds and grains. Future clearly wouldn’t be of abundance and Cas kept storing canned food and durable items.

And came the day Katniss died after being shot in the mines of District Two. That particular event didn’t bother Cas because he knew the Revolution was too far gone to be stopped now, and if anything, her death would serve as a fuel to compel the rebels forward. Two was the only remaining District still resisting the rebellion, and when their fortress fell, they quickly surrendered.

It wasn’t a surprise when on that same day Cas received an order for some beverages to be delivered at Snow’s mansion as soon as possible. Of course, the president would want to celebrate the death of the Mockingjay. Castiel delegated himself the delivery mission and went to the presidential mansion. He used service entrances, dealt only with servants and everything was going just like any other order delivery he’d ever done when President Snow appeared.

Castiel didn’t hear him, as Snow’s footsteps were very silent and Cas was talking to a woman, one of the employees, while unboxing the bottles and warranting that all items ordered had been delivered. What Cas first noticed was white blur to his left and when he turned his head to see what it was, he was face to face with the president of Panem. He had seen him before, at parties, but always from afar. He had snake-like eyes, extremely intense and fearsome, and exuded a scent of roses. Not a good one, but sickening, mixed with a still unknown smell that only much later Cas identified as blood when the same metallic taste filled his mouth. Many times before he thought he would feel intimidated in his presence, that he could somehow give hints of his hidden activities to him. But he wasn’t afraid. Instead, Cas felt surprisingly calm, as if every rebel was backing him up. Cas just breathed in deep once and put on his best smile.

“Mr. President. It is really nice to meet you.”

“You as well, Mr. Edlund.” Snow turned his look to the bottles. “Is everything in order?”

“Yes, sir, I still had all of them in the store.”

Snow didn’t reply, just walked around the table they were gathered and made a short movement with his head to send the other woman away. She left, hurriedly, and Castiel was left alone with Snow. He took one of the bottles and examined the label.

“From District One. Ain’t it a shame they so easily surrendered? Years and years of the favor of Capitol and with some bombs over their heads, suddenly, they forget their loyalty.”

“They are still Districts, sir, favor of the Capitol or not. They can’t see the big picture and how the Capitol works to keep us all alive.” Cas sustained his look for as long as he could, but turned away to pretend to check the bottles again. “Well, the order is delivered, I should return to the store now. Goodbye, President Snow.”

With a nod, Cas turned his back to Snow and headed to the exit.

“It was brought to my attention that you knew the man named… Dean Winchester? Is that right?”

Snow’s voice echoed in the chamber and continued ringing in Cas’ ear even after it faded. It was as if his heart stopped and the blood froze in his veins. The moment he dreaded had come, Snow knew about him and Dean.

Cas was still as stone but somehow knew he could hold the position much longer. Slowly he turned on his heel, taking the moment to rationalize, and understood Snow probably was pretending to not know Dean’s name, only to compel Cas to talk.

“I knew a Dean, but never knew his last name,” Cas replied with a small voice.

“He was a baker. Worked in the Games.”

It was no good to lie, and Cas decided to stick with the truth. At least part of it. “Oh, yes,” he faked the tone of acknowledgement, gaining confidence as he spoke. “I have bought some things from the bakery he worked in. But I haven’t seen him there anymore, and now the bakery is closed, of course.”

“It’s a pity… The things he baked was some of the best I’ve ever had…”

It was as if - _no, no, it couldn’t be_ \- it was as if Snow was talking about a dead person.

Castiel smiled, cautiously this time, nodding his head and agreeing with Dean’s skill.

“A real pity, if only he wasn’t born in District Four.” Snow continued exploiting Cas’ silence, his voice as sharp as blades, teasing his knowledge of Dean, Cas could see it even with the uneasiness blinding his better judgment.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you didn’t know?”

“No, I did not.” Cas shook his head, repressing a laugh to just a snort as if he was just now finding that out. “We have met a few times, but he never told me that. Why would he?” Cas sighed low and looked down at his feet to avoid Snow’s piercing eyes. He let his shoulders fall and tried to look as someone who had been deceived. Snow was staring at him, probably trying to find out if he was lying or not. Cas didn’t dare to speak anything else. After a while, Snow put the bottle down and rubbed his hands.

“Right, why would he. I suppose you don’t know where he is now?”

“I am sorry, Mr. President, but no. Was he a threat?” Two could play that game and Snow was not the only one probing what knowledge the other had about Dean. Snow waited a long time before finally answering.

“Not anymore.”

_No, no, it couldn’t be._

Stuck in his place, Cas only nodded, hoping that Snow’s information was mistaken. “Good.”

“Thank you, Mr. Edlund, for your diligence in bringing these so quickly. Excuse me now, please.”

Cas gave him a little smirk as he walked past him. Once Snow was gone and the room empty, Cas closed his eyes and breathe deeply several times. A tingling had spread to his fingers and they were simultaneously cold and sweaty.

Apparently, Snow didn’t know much about Cas and Dean’s relationship and from what he could notice, he didn’t suspect his statements. But that was not the issue.

Snow believed Dean to be dead. Either that was the truth or he was fishing for information, to catch Castiel slipping in a lie. Snow could be very manipulative after all.

Still shaking, Castiel left the mansion quickly and returned to the store. He didn’t mention the event to Charlie, who was sensitive not to ask about his change of behaviour, nor the kids. He was haunted with nightmares that night, bloody and terrifying nightmares where Dean was lost forever.

The dark circles under his eyes indicated the lack of sleep when Carver came to his house early the next day. His visits were rare because they were keeping the appearance of enmity to not raise suspicion, as it had been all their lives, and were maintaining conversations only through the communicator. His presence there indicated something important.

“I have news for you.” He was euphoric and seemed anxious but Cas didn’t share his happiness.

“Yeah?”

“I talked to Plutarch today. He told me about the baker, Dean.”

Again he stopped, seeing Cas’ eyes wide and eyebrows raised. Cas felt his heart pressing against the ribs and a sudden cold, fearing the confirmation of Snow’s words.

“He is alive. And well. Plutarch didn’t say where he is but that’s not so important since he is living and breathing, right?”

Tears of relief rolled down his eyes and Cas didn’t try to hide or stop them. Carver approached his son and held him in a hug. Over the last few weeks, Cas told him how they’d met, how Dean let him know he was from District Four and the way their relationship quickly and easily developed. He wanted him to have a good impression of Dean, but didn’t need to do much effort on that: Carver already thought Dean was brave for accepting the task of sending the bread to the Arena. Cas never said it, but his father knew he loved him very much.

Cas’ father also revealed that District Thirteen was planning to take over the Capitol, since all the Districts were now allies. With the eminence of an attack, if he wasn’t at the store, Cas was in the bunker. They were not actually informed when the takeover would happen, only that it would be soon.

He was at the store one morning, plowing to keep the business going, when from far away a loud noise of explosion was heard. Charlie and Cas went to the streets and on the sky they could see a trail of smoke and dust that seemed to rise from the outskirts of town. Back inside the store, the television announced the Capitol was under attack from the rebels and that the citizens should seek shelter immediately. They showed footage of the place where the bomb hit and Cas immediately recognized his house, even though it was almost completely collapsed to the ground.

He was frozen in front of the television, million thoughts on his mind. Were the kids alive? Had the bunker sustained the blast of the bomb? It took him some time to put his mind to work again.

“I have to go,” Cas said to Charlie, and stormed out of the store. He ran through the streets of the Capitol, not to his house, but to his parents’ apartment in the City Circle. Carver was watching the news too and he wasn’t surprised to see his son there. He raised from his seat and tried to calm Castiel.

“They’re fine, I’ve talked to them already. They can’t open the hatch, but it’s probably because there’s rubble over it.”

It helped, but Cas was still restless. “I want to talk to them.”

His mother was there too, looking at the two with her brow furrowed, clearly not understanding a thing about what her husband and his son were talking about.

“Sure, come here.” Carver said and guided him to his office. It was the first time Cas came to this apartment, but he didn’t observe the place with attention, too worried to care about anything else. He closed the door so they wouldn’t be interrupted, and prepared the communicator. “Claire? He’s here.”

“Are you two all right? No one is hurt?” Cas asked immediately.

“No, we are okay. We heard the blast and the sound of the house falling, but the walls are holding up just fine.” It was good news, but they were still stranded underground a collapsed house and Claire’s voice from the other side of the device sounded scared.

“Check the food. How much do you think you have?”

“Wait.” There was silence on the line for a while. Cas passed a hand over his eyes and realized they were wet with tears. He cleared them all, trying to hide it from Carver. “Enough for a few weeks, if we need to ration it.”

“Alright, good. We will figure out a way to get you two out of there. Stay calm, everything will be fine,” he said that to himself too, needing some reassurance that everything would actually be fine.

Carver ended the connection and they stayed in silence. Cas was going through a lot of crazy plans of how to get them out of the bunker, but none of them were realistic. “Can Plutarch do anything about it?” Cas eventually said, sharing the only viable option he could come up with.

“Maybe. If the rebels have taken that part of the town, they can move the rubble and take the kids away.”

“Call him.”

Carver looked at Cas as if he was someone completely different. Somehow, he was. The people who he cared most in his life had been messed with and he couldn’t let it pass unnoticed. Carver proceeded to contact Plutarch with another device Cas didn’t recognize. When Plutarch answered, Carver explained what happened.

“I understand your concern...” Plutarch said, clearly wanting to avoid the issue. “... But now we have other priorities and that it is to take control of the Capitol. We can’t deviate from this goal or…”

Cas snatched the communicator from his father’s hands, unable to stay still listening to that bullshit. “Give me this damn thing. Plutarch, it’s Castiel. You listen to me well, I will not say it twice. I don’t care how many rules you have to break, if you will piss that Alma Coin or how many people you will have to send in, but you will send an unit to take those kids away from here. You owe us that for all the work me and my father have been doing here, exposed and vulnerable and right under the nose of the enemy. If you don’t do anything to take them out and send them to Thirteen where they will be safe, I will go to Snow, I am sure he will love to know some rebel secrets.”

He obviously wouldn’t, Cas hated Snow much more than despised the lack of importance Plutarch put on that issue, but the tone of his voice implied otherwise. Plutarch remained in silence, pondering his options. ”I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you.”

After the initial shock passed, Cas left the apartment and walked to his destroyed house to finally look at it. It was a sad thing to behold. Several other houses had been destroyed as well. He could see some of his neighbors walking among the rubble, trying to salvage their belongings. That put his spirits even lower because there was nothing of the house he would like to save, and the ones he wanted were unreachable.

Many people had already evacuated that part of town fearing new attacks and Cas soon left the area too. He first stopped by Charlie’s house and apologized for leaving her so suddenly. They agreed that keeping the store closed was the safest for both. Now homeless, Cas went back to the apartment on the City Circle. Later that night, Plutarch made contact again and said that he reassigned an unit to free Claire and Jack and they were already on the way to the Capitol, assuring Castiel that they would start working on that as soon as that part of the town had been secured.

Cassia, Cas’ mother, was brought up to speed with everything her son and husband had been doing secretly. She was utterly displeased they could betray the Capitol that way, but she gave in at some point, recognizing that the situation was awful and that she just wanted it all to be over, not minding what side would win. More bombs fell that night and people were fleeing from the borders of the city and overflowing the central portion of it. The rebels were trying to advance, deactivating the pods and causing an inevitable destruction on the way, but all of the Capitol’s military force were engaged in the defense of the city now.

The rescue unit arrived the next day and Cas, who couldn’t stand being useless any longer, met them at their work site. Things were very calm that day, no blasts, no screams, no one in sight, and he wondered if that was the calm before the storm. They worked diligently on Cas’ house and he even helped them remove the easiest part of the rubble. There was some heavy boulders that they had to use small explosives to break into pieces. The entire day they worked and the calmness continued. Finally, the hatch was uncovered but opening it was just as tricky; the system had been damaged and it seemed to be shut, but with force and a few more strategically placed explosives, it opened. Jack was the first to emerge, who was surprisingly in his chipper mood despite being stuck underground. Claire was more hesitant and walked to Cas immediately. He held her in a hug for a long time, almost not believing they were all fine.

The unit leader said one of the soldiers would take the two kids to the headquarters outside of town so they could be sent to Thirteen, as Cas demanded from Plutarch. It was his cue to go back home, but Cas didn’t feel he had a home to go back to.

“Can I go with them? To the headquarters?”

“As you wish.” The leader just shrugged. “I’m not the one who decides who gets to go there.”

Castiel, Jack, Claire, and the soldier, whose name they discovered was Gabriel, made their way outside the Capitol by foot. It was a long walk and Jack chatted with Gabriel unceasingly. At the headquarters, Gabriel reported to his commander, saying he had orders from Plutarch to send all those people back to Thirteen, and gave Cas a tricksy wink. He didn’t mention Castiel was not originally included in the deal. The commander didn’t seem to mind it, just saying there was a vehicle with injured rebels leaving at the end of the day and that they could go on it.

It was night already, when the car stopped in District Nine, the first District on the journey, to deliver the injured people. From there, Cas and the kids boarded a train with many other refugees from that District going to Thirteen. District Nine was where Claire was from, and she was content to be among her people and some familiar faces again. It all changed, however, when she discovered her family had not survived the early stages of the rebellion. From then, the girl was silent all the way through Thirteen.

The idea that Castiel was heading to the same place where Dean was located never crossed his mind. In fact, Cas believed Dean probably wasn’t even in Thirteen anymore, or Plutarch would have told him. Wouldn’t he?

They arrived at their destiny on the following night and Cas hardly closed his eyes during the travel. District Thirteen was strange, built underground, and Cas was afraid that after the bunker, the kids wouldn’t want to live like that again. But the place was so big that the detail quickly slipped their minds. All the refugees were processed, their names and origins taken and put in the system; they were given a uniform and were assigned to a room. Cas’ was 420 and Claire and Jack, for the moment, were bunked with him. The room was sparse, just blank walls and plain beds. With none of their belongings to make it personal, the room could be anyone else’s.

Their first need was to rest, because for days they lived on the edge of emotions. After ensuring both kids were settled, finally Castiel felt safe enough to just close his eyes and sleep.

 


	24. Time Is on My Side

 

Well, Dean learned in the hard way how different training was from real life. Being in the battlefield was having his senses in a level he believed to be unreachable. The difference from protecting himself or the others didn’t exist, there was only instinct. Some moments Dean remembered vividly, others in slow motion, but he also had blank spots between flashes of what happened. He remembered pain and ignoring it. He didn’t remember getting back to the hovercraft and he had some blur memories of the flight. He knew he asked for Sam when he realized he was back at Thirteen, but he didn’t remember if it worked or not.

And then he was stuck in one of the infirmary rooms, left arm trapped in a sling and the same shoulder stitched up because he got hit by a bullet – which he had no memory of. Apparently, it was superficial, however with all the dust and dirt from the field, he should pay attention in case an infection developed. Because nothing hurt, Dean imagined to be under the effect of strong meds.

He also found out Sam wasn’t allowed to visit. Dean understood that but he still wanted to see his brother. If Sam was the one that got injured in the battlefield and he wasn’t allowed to see him, Dean would be extremely worried, even if informed that his brother was okay.

The day after the battle at Two was filled with sleep, food, more sleep, and quick visits to the restroom. Dean was only allowed to go to his compartment after supper and he was escorted by one of his students. They walked in silence, Dean was thankful for that.

Checking the time, Dean imagined Sam would be having his own dinner, as well Ketch, who Dean definitely didn’t want to see at the moment. He opened the always unlocked door and, to his surprise, he found a very worried Sam Winchester sitting on his bed.

When Dean saw Sam, it clicked. What he actually needed wasn’t to let Sam know he was okay. No, what Dean needed was to sure _Sam_ was alright, even if he wasn’t in any danger. He needed to know that everything he did was worth it.

However, still, being with his brother wasn’t enough. Dean tried to shield those thoughts as much as he could because it hurt so much, but he needed Cas, too. It had been months since they last saw each other and a couple of weeks since he last heard about him. So much could have changed. The Capitol wasn’t a safe place and for all Dean knew, Castiel Edlund could be dead. Just like that, one minute you were alive and in the next you weren’t anymore.

There was no way Sam could have read those thoughts in Dean’s eyes, but he stood up hugged his brother the only way he could, one arm over Dean’s right shoulder.

Dean’s eyes burned. He fought the tears and lost the battle. Sam brought him closer, not saying a word while Dean silently cried.

“This…” Dean stepped away and dried his face with the palm of his hand. “This is stupid. What kind of soldier I am? I went to a little battle and…”

“Don’t.” Sam interrupted him. “Don’t go there. You’re not a soldier, Dean. You’re a great one, okay, but you are not really a soldier. Don’t forget that.”

“If you are trying to make me feel better, you’re doing a crappy job, Sammy.”

Sam sighed and sat back down on the bed. “I’m just telling you that it’s okay. We’re not meant to fight for our lives until death. You know who believes that? The Capitol. The Hunger Games. Don’t you tell me they’re right; don’t tell me that you going to war and not being shaken by it is the right thing. Or do it and I know we’re not on the same page.”

Dean didn’t want to say anything. He just wanted to hide himself in bed and sleep until everything was over. Then, probably feel bad because about that later.

But no, that was a terrible plan. He should talk to his brother instead.

“Of course I don’t agree, don’t be stupid. It’s just...” Opening up for Dean wasn’t something easy and he had to take a minute to himself before trying again. Dean sat in his usual spot, in front of Sam, opposite bed. “This is all messed up. What really changed from before the rebellion? I don’t want to go back to what it was, but I don’t like where this is heading. You know what the plan was? They basically buried people inside a mountain, so the Capitol can’t get their army shit anymore. I heard people scream. Many people died or are still to be dead. And then they say ‘ _it’s just how war works’_. Okay, war. But like you said, we are no better than President Snow or any Hunger Games head Gamemaker when we do things like that. We are just like tributes, ready to kill anytime. Just to survive. It never gets simple, does it?”

“I don’t think it does, no.” Sam dropped his face on his hands and slid his fingers through his hair, tucking it behind his ears. “I was worried sick not because you can’t handle yourself but because our own people can be lying to us. You could be facing something even worse than that. It was like I was sensing you were in some sort of trouble. I knew where you were, but I didn’t at the same time. I thought it would be like when you were in the Capitol but-”

“Well, now imagine a 20 year old me knowing that my brother is out there somewhere,” Dean interrupted. “just a kid, only fucking sixteen. Knowing that any peacekeeper wouldn’t have mercy or whatever. The prettiest scenario had you without a tongue being someone’s puppy. So, I think I can relate. Having someone you care about out there with people who you think are friends, but who knows? In a place where you can be suddenly accused of treason and die for it. When would you really know if the person died? You lay your head in bed and you think of him and you wonder if you should’ve stayed and faced this damn situation together. Not that he needs your protection, but we stick together with the ones we love, don’t we?”

Sam listened to Dean’s speech in silence, just waiting. When there were no more words from Dean, only angry tears in his eyes, he moved a little on the bed, getting more comfortable, and sighed.

“You are not talking about me anymore. You are talking about Cas.”

Images of Castiel, Jack, and Claire appeared in Dean’s mind. Something was telling him they were not safe: they were in danger. And he could do nothing about it. Sam was right, that wasn’t about him. Cas was still on his mind and Dean was having the hardest time trying to avoid the negative thoughts. However, every time he closed his eyes he could see Cas’ lifeless face, blue eyes with nothing else to see.

“I…” His throat was dry, his words hurting him in different levels. “I don’t think Cas is okay. And after yesterday… I don’t know if I will see him ever again.”

Dean hasn’t spoken much about Castiel with Sam, nothing other than basic information to help him find out if Cas was okay. He was careful not to label their relationship, for example, even if for him it was crystal clear they were in a serious one. Those were all precautions to not let Sam get attached to Cas, or the idea of him. A few days living with his brother was enough to make Dean realize how the younger Winchester was in need to make connections. He knew the sentiment, he felt the same in the Capitol. He couldn’t let Sam get attached to the idea of Castiel as a part of the family just to make him lose one more person.

However, the dam had broken now. He needed to talk about Cas.

“I never thought I would have what we had. It took me almost a fucking year to go for it, my dumbass brain just couldn’t believe someone like him was interested in me. I still can’t believe it. He has the looks, he has the brains, he has the heart and he even has money. Snap his fingers and people would just bow in front of him, if he wanted them to.” Stubborn solitary tears fell, slowly, cold against Dean’s warm face. He couldn’t look at Sam anymore, so he closed his eyes. “It was like all this shit didn’t exist. Maybe it wasn’t real, and my memories are fucking with me, but I don’t know. I think it all was real, and I lost him the moment I left his store. I should’ve stayed there beside him. I…”

The words didn’t leave his throat anymore, preventing him to speak the scariest truth: he should’ve lived or died beside Castiel, not in a random war field, as a nameless soldier until someone decided to recognize him. Sam touched his knee and Dean was obliged to face him. His nose and eyes were red, but he wasn’t crying.

“I can’t promise Cas is fine right now, but I can promise you that once we are together, if any of us need to go somewhere or do something, we will do it together. We are family and we are done leaving family behind. Deal?”

Wiping his face, Dean nodded. That sounded like a good plan. He just needed to have Castiel back.

“Talking about news, today I talked to Bobby and he and Dad are good. Now, get some sleep and try to rest these next few days before they put you back to work.”

Again, Dean just nodded. Sam stood up and left, not before waving goodbye like a 6’4” tall kid.

Dean should rest **.**

 

 

Dean woke up to a knock on his door. It was early, he imagined, because Ketch rumbled some complaints about the disturbance. Dean, himself, wasn’t much happy about it either. His shoulder hurt a little because of the position he slept, and he probably missed his midnight painkiller. They knocked again.

“Wait a minute, will ya?”

He yells at the door while turning on the bedside lamp. Ketch hid his head under his pillow complaining again, and all that Dean wanted was to do the same. He took his pill without water, turned off the lamp and opened the door. A soldier that Dean knew by the name of Johnson was the one knocking.

“What do you want? I’m not working.”

“I know, sir, I have a message for you, uh...” Johnson stopped, clearly uncertain of what to say, or how to say. “I didn’t even know you had a… uh, _partner,_ I mean, you never said anything about the guy, well, you never talk to people pretty much at all...”

The dim light of the corridor probably blocked the complete terror on Dean’s face. That was it. That was how Dean would hear about Castiel’s death.

“What about him, Johnson?”

“He’s here.”

His heart went from frozen to beating too fast only in seconds. Miraculously keeping his cool, on the outside at least, Dean cleared his throat and repositioned himself on his feet. Sam was the only one who knew about Castiel. And if Sam heard about Cas’ arrival, he would’ve come himself to tell Dean, not send a random person. As much as he wanted to dive into the idea of Cas being there, he had to think things through first.

“How do you know all that? Who told you?”

“Plutarch himself.”

That was a real possibility. “Is he okay? Where is he?”

“Compartment 420. That’s all I know.”

Dean nodded once and that was enough to make Johnson leave. After closing the door, Dean leaned forward and rested his forehead on it. He wanted to be happy but all he felt was fear. What if he got all excited by Castiel’s arrival just to be surprised and find out that he, in fact, wasn’t there and it was all a mistake? Also, with the level of trust Dean had in Thirteen at the moment, he didn’t exclude the possibility of an ambush.

Dean really wanted to be happy, though. Honestly. Wholeheartedly. But he would only allow himself to feel like that when he had Castiel in his arms.

“Dean? Are you still there?” Ketch asked, and Dean answered him with a hum. “Aren’t you going?”

“I’m gonna, just a sec.”

But he didn’t move. He was starting to get cold, only wearing a white tank top and a gray pair of pants from his uniform that never seemed to get kneaded. He could feel his roommate’s eyes of him, even in the dark, probably wondering what the hell was going on. Slowly, Dean moved. He put on the upper part of his uniform, taking his time with each button. Next were his socks and boots. He brushed his hair up and beard down with his fingers.

Finally ready, Dean left his room to a completely empty corridor. The bunker was silent because of the early time. He checked the clock: it was a little past 5am. It would take him at least 15 minutes to get to compartment 420. Dean walked silently through the corridors that he already knew by heart. He pictured the moment of knocking the door and seeing Castiel, hopefully not hurt and with the kids safe.

With every step closer, his hope got more intense as well as his fear to be wrong. He went down two flights of stairs and turned right, and that was when Dean saw it. Even from afar, he would never mistake the line of those shoulders and dark hair. The Thirteen gray uniform, so different from the Capitol clothes, weren’t enough to make Dean mistake the man for somebody else. He wanted to scream his name, but he only managed to whisper it.

“Cas.”

It felt like a scream, though, in the dead silence of the depths of District Thirteen. Castiel looked behind and saw Dean, but he was stuck in place. It was real. Castiel was there, whole and alive.

Dean’s legs moved before his brain decided and soon he was walking fast in Cas’ direction, who still didn’t move, eyes locked on Dean, mouth hanging with the surprise.

Dean’s walk felt like an eternity and he wondered when time and reality started to mess up with his brain. One second, he was too far from Cas and in the next he had his head buried in the crook of the other man’s neck. The hands that knew Dean’s body like an expert held him tight, bringing them together...impossibly closer.

Cas was there.

“I can’t believe. I can’t believe. I can’t believe.” Dean chanted.

Cas didn’t say anything but also didn’t let Dean go either. They stayed like that for what seemed to be a long time. Without the need to see Castiel’s face, Dean started to recognize the little details he had tattooed in his memory. Cas’ speed of breathing. His scent. The feeling of Cas’ fingers on his hair. The contour of his back. His heartbeat.

“Dean.”

The sound of his named in Cas’ gravelly voice made him melt even more against the man. Dean felt Cas’ nose touch his ear and a tender kiss was planted on his neck. Slowly, he loosened the embrace without letting go of Cas.

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“We did say we would meet again. And I believe you are a man of your word as I am myself.”

Dean smiled. It felt different from his other smiles, from the one he was used to giving Sam, for example. It’s not better nor worse, just different. It was Castiel’s. Especially when it was replied with another smile. Dean noticed stronger lines in Cas’ face, probably from being tired and worried. But his eyes were the same blue that captured Dean’s attention what seemed to be decades ago. It felt like home.

“Are you okay? And the kids? Everybody safe?”

“Yes.” Castiel replied, doing the same study of Dean’s features. “I’m okay, we are all okay now.”

They hugged again, starved for touch. This one was fast, an assurance that the moment was real.

“I knew you were alive… But nothing else.” Cas whispered close to Dean’s ear. “How long you have been here?”

“Since I left the Capitol. Are you really okay?”

His shoulder hurt like a motherfucker and he had to let go of the hug. Castiel put one hand on his beard, feeling it. Dean missed the direct touch and immediately considered shaving. Only if it wasn’t for Cas’ glad look while brushing the tips of his fingers on Dean’s face. Apparently, he enjoyed the new look. Dean held Cas’ hand and moved his face, placing kisses on the palm and fingers of his boyfriend’s hand.

“I’m good, Dean. Just tired. I promise.” He gave Dean a tiny smile to assure him that that was the truth. “We got here just yesterday, on train with refugees from Nine.”

“Something happened?”

“My house was hit by a bomb, the kids were stranded, it was a mess… I just had to bring them to some place safe.”

He fucking knew it. His guts never failed him. Castiel _was_ in danger. “Your house was _bombed?_ ”

He should never had left. He should have stayed there beside Castiel. He shouldn’t have allowed himself to let the man he loved to face a war alone.

Castiel’s hand brought him back to the moment. “Dean, we are good now. We are together.”

“Yeah.”

His shoulder took the moment to remind him it was bruised. Dean grinded his teeth to avoid a complaint, but a hiss escaped anyway.

“What is wrong?” Cas asked but Dean shook his head. “Are you hurt? Tell me.”

“Just dislocated my left shoulder a few days ago.”

Castiel carefully slid his fingers on Dean’s shoulder. It wouldn’t hurt much if it was, in fact, only a dislocated shoulder. However, the bullet wound was there too and when Castiel reached it, Dean hissed again.

“And a bullet wound, nothing serious.”

“Nothing seri- Dean! Bullet wounds are all serious! Did a doctor see it? Are you taking painkillers?”

“Of course, Cas. It’s just kinda recent and all. But everything is patched up and put in place, no worries.”

“ _No worries_.” He rolled his eyes at Dean. “You are infuriating sometimes.”

“But you love me.”

Dean grinned and Castiel did the same, not holding the mad face for a second. “Yes, I do.”

And so did Dean. He loved Cas even when he was certain they would never see each other again. Just the mere thought of never seeing those blue eyes again seemed even scarier. All he wanted was to dive into that gorgeous pair of eyes that were staring at him like he was the most precious thing on Earth. Dean was infatuated. “I love you, too, Cas.”

Cas cupped Dean’s face with both hands, so gently, like he was handling pearls. The fingers brushed the beard, and the sensation was still so new. So intimate. Castiel’s eyes moved slowly, like he was capturing every detail of Dean’s features. While one hand stayed on the beard, the other touched his face. He closed his eyes. The first stop was on the left side of his forehead, exactly where he knew he had a new scar. Leisurely, the fingers brushed down his temples then from under his left eye to the right one – his freckles. Cas went back on his path a little and stopped on the bridge of Dean’s nose. It tickled and Dean couldn’t hold it: he chuckled. Next thing, Cas’ fingers where on his lips and the touch made Dean open his eyes. His mouth parted and he felt his own warm breath surrounding the tips of Cas’ fingers.

Dean put his own hand over Cas’, who moved it to Dean’s neck, not grabbing it but tenderly pulling Dean towards him. A chill ran up Dean’s spine and he felt as alive as ever. His eyes went down to Cas’ lips, so inviting, also parted and just licked in a quick movement from Castiel’s tongue.

It felt like they were kissing for the first time all over again, something Dean didn’t think that was possible, but there he was: heart racing, expectation playing with the sensibilities of his fingertips, the necessity to memorize every second of the moment. His way to capture Cas’ lips felt like minutes, but it could have easily been only one.

It didn’t matter that they were in the middle of a public corridor ready to get caught by anyone passing by. That moment was theirs because they’d earned it. They fought and suffered. It was finally time to reunite. And that was exactly how Dean felt when his lips caressed Cas’: as one again.

Their lips were cold but, yet, heat expanded in waves while it intensified all of his senses. They didn’t deepen the kiss, there was no need. Everything was perfect at that moment; no war, no death, no problems. Just them being together.

Dean moved his lips to peck on Cas’ upper one and then went up to give him a series of light kisses over his face just like he loved to do, and, for his luck, Cas loved as well. Cas chuckled, whole body participating in the laughter, shoulders waving and chest going up and down rhythmically. Dean laughed too, sharing the joy of the moment.

“Maybe we should go grab something to eat.” Dean said, giving Cas a final hug before parting, however, not letting go of his hand. “Breakfast starts at six.”

“That should do. Plutarch wants to see me, I guess he will either ship me back or ask me to continue to work here.”

Dean frowned with the possibility of Castiel being sent back to the Capitol. “Nah, you’re staying. Just like the kids. Where are they anyways?”

“I left them sleeping, couldn’t wake them, they looked so peaceful. Do I need to wake them?”

“Don’t think so. There’s an alarm in every compartment.”

“So we should go have breakfast.”

They started walking, Castiel telling Dean his tale. There were so many details, but Dean caught up with everything, paying attention not to miss any part of it. As he imagined, Cas’ months in the Capitol weren’t the easiest and even though his staying there technically wouldn’t had made things better, Dean still wanted to be there beside his boyfriend.

When they get to the cafeteria, the place had only a few people, but they instantly drew attention with their hand-in-hand arrival. Castiel stopped talking and followed Dean to the line to get food, neither letting go of their hold.

“I think they’ve never seen me smile like this, can’t blame them for all the staring,” Dean whispered next to Cas’ ear.

“You look astonishing when you smile.”

Behind the compliment, there was something else, Dean noticed. “Still a little jealous, Cas?”

“Jealous? No, of course not. However, I am sure you are aware of how you are an incredibly pleasant sight and I am not the biggest fan of people considering the possibility of you being theirs, especially because you are much more than just pretty green eyes, freckles, and thick muscles. You are keen, intelligent, passionate about what you do, and honestly the best person they will ever know throughout their lives.”

“Well,” Dean knew his ears were tomato red and if his beard wasn’t covering it, his face too. “No one can appreciate me like you do.”

“Agreed.”

After they finished serving, they decided to sit at one of the tables in the back, where they could have more privacy before the cafeteria got packed, even if it was already fuller than usual. Before they were able to reach the table, Dean heard someone calling his name. He stopped, while Castiel continued his path to the table.

“Dean! Need talk to you!”

It was his brother. Dean waved. “Hey, Sam, come here!”

“Man, I just went to your compartment and you weren’t there! Castiel is here, Dean, one of your soldiers just told me.”

“Yeah, I know.” He pointed to Cas. “That’s him.”

“Oh.”

Sam suddenly became shy, like if he was caught doing a bad thing. They walked towards the table, Sam terribly failing on hiding behind Dean.

“Cas, this is Sam, my brother.” He elbowed Sam to get out from behind him. “Sam, behave yourself. This is Castiel. My boyfriend.”

“Hey, hi.” Sam offered Cas a hand. “Nice to finally be able to put a face to the name.”

“Hello, Sam. Likewise. Dean has always spoken very fondly of you.”

After the introductions were made, Sam seemed to ease a little and got more comfortable. Dean told Cas about his own personal tale while Sam went to serve himself breakfast and later he helped Dean tell the stories, filling some gaps.

Cas’ meeting with Plutarch was scheduled for 6:30pm, thirty minutes before Dean’s first assignment. When the time came, Dean had to face the reality that he couldn’t literally be with Cas all the time. Despite him knowing that Plutarch wouldn’t kick Castiel out of Thirteen, the possibility wasn’t pleasant.

Cas assured him that he wasn’t going anywhere without Dean and kissed his face before leaving. Sam visibly was containing a stupid grin, but he managed to hold it and started talking about other things to distract Dean from his worries.

Eventually, Sam asked: “How are you feeling?”

Dean thought for a minute before answering, “Like part of me was dead and I didn’t know before and now I’m living again.”

“It’s good to hear this, Dean. And what I said a couple of days ago still stands: we are a team now, we will take care of each other and together.”

Dean smiled softly. His words couldn’t be more honest. “I know. Thank you.”


	25. Free to Be You and Me

 

Thirteen’s clothes weren’t so bad after all. They created an indistinction between the underground residents, something Castiel never experienced in the Capitol. He looked like just about everyone else, and once he realized his background history wasn’t of much importance for them, getting used to this new routine became easy.

And it was indeed a routine. The tattoo on his forearm every day stated the same, it seemed like it never vanished. Breakfast at 7am. Command meeting at 8am. Lunch at 12am. Training at 1pm. Reflection at 6pm. Dinner at 6:30pm.

He agreed to Plutarch’s conditions for staying and his mornings were reserved for creating strategies with their intelligence team for the invasion of the city. Cas was one of the few there who knew the city from living there and not just from a holographic projection, and because of that he became an key asset in the rebel plans.

For his evening activities, Cas was given permission to choose what suited him best, and joining the army of Thirteen seemed like the right option in that moment. Cas was eager to learn and to be useful in the war. Most of all, he wished to be able to protect those he cared about and get rid of the powerless feeling that chased him since his house was bombed. The transition wasn’t as hard, and after a couple of sore days once the workouts started (when Dean cared to nurse him back to health), Cas seamlessly fit in that gray clad mass.

He always shared his meals with Dean, and with Sam also, whenever the taller Winchester was free from his duties. Claire and Jack usually joined their table and for an hour or two it seemed like things were good. Laughter, from all of them often when Claire made a joke about Jack’s naivety on the training, or from Sam when Dean teased Cas to no end, filled their conversations and there was no other group of people as merry as them in the cafeteria.

Few weeks later Cas was surprised with a change in his schedule.

_ 1pm - G. T. Training Center, Room 401 _

Room 401 was where Dean trained the new recruits. Something was odd, definitely. During breakfast, Cas questioned him and Dean answered with a big smile splitting his face.

“Yeah, you’ve passed the initial basic training and from today you’re with me. Here, look.” He scooted to the seat next to Cas to take a look at the tattoo. “G. T., that’s gun training. Moved some sticks so you could be in my classes. Usually it’s ‘M. C.’ too, which is melee combat, but I’m not teaching it again until the shoulder is 100% again.”

After lunch, they headed together to the compartment deep below Thirteen, where all the training facilities were placed. It was still early and they were the first to arrive. Dean, as usual with his gray soldier uniform, turned on all the lights, revealing a wide room divided in half and prepared for many activities. On one side, the wall was covered with guns of different kinds, both big and small, and an unimaginable assortment of accessories that Cas couldn’t even name. A few tables spread across the floor were ready to be used for weapon assembly. On the other side of the room, racks full of weapons such as swords, tridents, lances, spears populated the side while the center was free for the actual sparring sections and many training dummies were stocked in one corner, a few with missing limbs.

Though cold and uninviting as any other room in Thirteen, Cas actually liked it there. Maybe it was Dean’s presence, or the fact he could see Dean in many places, like in the way the guns were neatly arranged in the wall, or maybe the promise that there he could learn something useful for the war.

In slow paces, Cas walked to the gun display that was eerily drawing his attention.

“Pretty cool, aren’t they?” Dean’s voice echoed in the chamber while he approached Cas and stood by his side, also observing the guns.

“That depends on which side you are from them.”

Dean, rather surprised with the comment, pondered Cas’ words for a few seconds. “True. But in a war, I don’t think we can afford to choose it.” Few more silent seconds passed until Dean reached for one of the big guns. “Wanna try?”

Cas shrugged, but curiosity was actually flourishing in him. “Sure.”

Standing right in front of him, Dean extended the weapon while holding it on both ends of the receiver. “Put your right hand on the grip, index finger on the trigger -” Cas shot him an apprehensive look. “Don’t worry, it’s not loaded. Left hand on the handguard under the barrel.”

It was a heavy thing and it pulled Cas’ hands down, and the metal grip felt cold in Cas’ palm, but he followed Dean’s instructions. He weighed the gun a few times and moved his fingers a few more to get a firm grip. It was a foreign object for him in any way: he had seen people in Thirteen with guns, but never looked at one that close nor touched one. His curiosity was quickly replaced by dread by handling such a deadly weapon.

Dean’s voice again echoed and took Cas from his thoughts, “This is a machine gun, has a lot of firepower to shoot targets far away, but works well in a closer combat range, too.”

Death waited for whomever stood on the business end of that gun.

Suddenly, Cas couldn’t stare at the black metal weapon any longer and raised his eyes to meet Dean’s already on him. His expression, however, didn’t match with the room nor the conversation for that matter. He looked almost… Enchanted, with a hint of lustfulness creeping in his stare.

“Are you okay, Dean?”

Dean blinked several times. “What? Yeah, I’m good.”

“You look distracted.”

“Well, can you blame me? You look kinda hot holding a gun.”

“That is not the word I would use.” He cast a frowned glance down at the weapon. “Why do you think  _ this _ is… Hot?”

Sensing Cas’ concern, Dean stepped closer and placed a gentle hand on his arm.

“Cause… Cas, you’re a nice person. You’re sweet and selfless, and I love you for that. But add a gun to your good looks and suddenly you’re... Dangerous. I look at you now and I know you can take a whole squad of peacekeepers on your own. And I think that’s pretty hot.”

Cas was serious; after all, holding a gun was no joke to him, but Dean’s words softened his expression, easing it to a shy smile.

“I can take this compliment.”

After returning the machine gun to its place, Dean continued to show him other weapons. He briefly explained the differences between pistols, rifles, and shotguns and Cas tried to hold as much information as possible.

It didn’t take long until more people arrived and the training started at 1pm sharp. Cas was quite perplexed at first, but he was determined to learn, which gave him a confidence boost. Dean was a skilled teacher, as Cas had already witnessed, and owned the room and the attention of every student with his words and movements. They exchanged a few looks, and one time when Dean wandered the tables offering help to assemble a rifle, he placed a hand on Cas’ shoulder, but other than that, Cas was not given special treatment.

The training came to an end near 6pm and again together, he and Dean went back to their respective rooms for showers, chatting a little about the progression of the class. They walked hand in hand, discreetly, just because the touch was reassuring. It was a luxury that Cas was getting used to giving themselves, and though sometimes they would get a hard look from other underground residents, he simply couldn’t care.

On the upper levels of Thirteen, their talk was interrupted by a soldier of higher rank. “Hey, Edlund!”

Cas halted and so did Dean by his side. The other man, who Cas knew from his meetings in Command, was Carter, soon reached them.

“Sir.” Cas greeted him with a nod of his head in respect that Carter returned to both him and Dean.

“That request you put for moving from your room was approved. You and Winchester have been relocated to Level 15, Room 20. You two can move to the new room any time you want.”

The news caught Cas completely off guard. He didn’t expect to get a positive answer.

“Oh. Alright. Great. Thank you, Carter.”

While the soldier walked away, Cas looked at Dean, who seemed just as startled as him.

“What?”

“When were you going to tell me this?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“This  _ is _ a damn good surprise!”

The shock gave way for a growing smile and then laughter, euphoric and contagious, that reached Cas and enveloped him the warm candor that was the sound of Dean’s laughter. Cas laughed too, but channeled his delight in an actual embrace. Bodies close, and faces side by side, they stood while the bliss of that moment slowly died until a quiet contentment settled in Cas’ lower belly.

Being relocated to a room with Dean meant they could stay together every night, an indulgence they were not allowed, not in the Capitol neither yet in Thirteen. Sometimes Cas even considered sneaking out of his room during the night to go to Dean’s, but he had a roommate and thus no privacy. More than that, insubordination was not seen with good eyes for the people in charge there.

When Cas stepped away, he saw in Dean’s eyes the same realization, and his smile, once happy, was now an impish grin.

He tried to ignore it.

He failed.

That quiet contentment quickly turned into a confusing mess of desire and impatience. Cas, raising an eyebrow, pointed his index finger to Dean.

“Hold that thought.”

Cas then walked away, heading to Room 20 on Level 15, and Dean, as if they were magnets, followed suit. In hurried strides, both arrived at their new compartment. It looked like their old rooms, outside and inside, essential tools only, sparse and devoid of any decoration. Except, instead of two single beds, a simple double bed occupied the space. In that moment, it was the only object that mattered.

Once Dean had entered, Cas closed the door. Dean was taking a look at what the room had to offer with an unamused expression, eyebrows high and mouth curved down.

“It's not so bad, we can add some stuff to…”

While Dean rambled, Cas reached him in a few hurried strides, and his voice died when he noticed what Cas was doing. Without warning, he began to unbuckle the belt of the soldier's cargo pants in very slow moves. He had his eyes on Dean's face to catch all of his reactions and he was graced with the view of his eyes fluttering closed, mouth slightly agape as he let out a heavy breath.

“Cas, man... “

Cas pulled the belt out from the loops.

“Yes, Dean?”

Another heavy breath and he still had his eyes closed. Cas dropped the belt and his hand reached up a little higher, to the top button of Dean’s button-up shirt.

“Oh shit…” Finally Dean looked down at Cas’ fingers carefully working up open the second button. “We're gonna be late…”

“Maybe.”

Cas popped open the third button.

Dean shut his eyes again, and as if that was not enough, covered them with his hands. In his turn, Cas glanced down to his work while opened button number four, and noticed Dean’s dick already standing at attention. Cas hummed in satisfaction while opening the fifth button with unnecessary flourish.

“We have dinner C-Cas…” His voice faltered, drop down to that enticing low tone. Cas felt  _ his _ own dick requiring some attention. “Dinner's in half an hour… We need… We… we don't have time now…”

“Are you doubting my abilities, Dean?”

Dean groaned loudly, exasperated, and the sixth and last button was opened. As if he was finally granted a long expected prize, Cas pulled apart the sides of Dean's shirt, just to indulge in the sight of his muscular torso. Dean already had a strong physique in the Capitol, as Cas happily noticed when they were still discovering each others bodies. Now, with the soldier routine of trainings and workouts, his shirts claimed for mercy while Dean's biceps strained the seams.

Ever so slowly, Cas ran the back of his right index down Dean's heaving chest, past his rapidly beating heart, the new and still undiscovered abs until, at last, he stopped right above the waistline of his pants, as if he had reached the mythical pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Cas licked his lips without even noticing.

“You're a fucking tease.” Dean's voice was barely audible, merely a whisper between his exhales. Cas reluctantly lift his eyes but any view of Dean was just as interesting. His pupils were blown wide, transfixed to Cas’ lips, waiting anxiously for another peek of his tongue.

“I have been told that. By you. Several times,” he stated slowly and observed as Dean's eyes followed every movement.

“We're  _ really _ gonna be late…”

“Do you care?”

Cas waited while Dean pondered. The answer only came after a few seconds.

“No.”

And he could swear Dean would lean forward and attack Cas’ lips with a fierce kiss, as sometimes happened when things got heated. But the attack never came. In fact, Dean was waiting, chest still moving now in an erratic pace, but definitely waiting. Cas tilted his head, frowning in confusion, but soon understood.

Dean was waiting for Cas to take the next step. He had surrendered the power entirely to Cas.

That was  _ new _ .

Sex for them had been a growing experience, a journey of learning and discovery, either of what pleasured the other or which boundaries they were willing to leave behind. However, their relationship in the bedroom so far had been imbued with balance of power based on the confidence that neither would surpass the consent or would act imposing. They were equals there, not a baker from Four or a salesman from the Capitol, they were Dean and Castiel simply. Not even as Cas gained experience and learned how and for how long he could tease Dean without pushing too far, he never exceed that trust.

To think that Dean was willing to  _ submit _ to Castiel in such a way…

“Do you want this?” Cas had to ask, had to have Dean’s explicit consent.

His reply was a breathy ‘yeah’.

Castiel couldn’t say no to that. In fact, he was curious how that would go, and if he was up to that role.

Taking the cue, Cas raised his right hand from Dean’s waistline to his lips. He used the pad of his thumb this time to brush the lower lip from one side to the other. Dean closed his eyes again, but Cas couldn’t tell if to relish in feeling of that highly anticipated touch or if to better control his emotions.

Cas was suddenly taken aback by the texture of Dean’s lip under his thumb mixed with his hot breath making his skin sticky. A jolt of heat traveled his body, carrying an influx of blood to his dick. His pants felt like a prison.

The simple movement of Dean leaning for a kiss woke up Cas from that over sensitiveness. Before Dean could get too close, Cas splayed his fingers over Dean's jawline, hindering any further movement. When Cas looked up from that small difference in their heights, Dean’s eyes were open as well, ignited with arousal that  _ almost _ made Cas feel impatient.

Taking his time, as if they had an endless supply of it, Cas finished Dean’s lean for the kiss, but because he was a tease as Dean stated, all he did was hover over his lips, slowly, tantalizingly so. Dean let out an obscene moan.

“Caas…”

“I like when you are needy. Makes fulfilling your wishes very…” Pretending to take the time to think, Cas placed a soothing kiss in the center of Dean’s top lip. “Satisfying.”

Somehow Dean’s groan was even filthier, and not even Cas could hold back a smile. Feeling he was not far from losing complete control over his feelings, Cas surrendered too, but to his own wishes. He pressed his lips against Dean’s, soft, balmy, almost like a gift he was generous to give.

Dean didn’t try to push it further, he had learned his lesson and now waited for Cas. Realizing this killed the remainder of Cas’ self control. He released Dean and moved both hands to his shoulder to push away the open shirt and remove it completely. Cas didn’t want to lose any more time and promptly slid his fingers down Dean’s arms, leaving shivers in their wake. When he reached the hands, Cas held them and guided them to his own button down shit. Dean worked the buttons open way more hastily than Cas, though much less gracefully.

By the time Dean managed to open all the buttons while still chasing Cas’ lips, Cas had popped open the buttons of both their pants and was trying to pull Dean’s down. It was the only reason Dean broke that chaotic attempt of a kiss, to get rid of all the clothes still clinging to their bodies.

Cas’ naked skin was aware of the cold room, but his insides were on fire. He lunged forward, seeking Dean’s lips as if they were an oasis in the desert. Dick hard and feeling Dean’s erection against his abdomen, Cas pushed both of them back towards the bed.

The back of Dean's legs hit the metal bed first and with the impact he lost balance. Their lips parted abruptly as Dean fell back onto the mattress, biting on Cas’ lower lip with the surprise. Dean pushed himself further into the bed and Cas climbed it right after. He straddled Dean’s body, legs firm on each side of him. Dean's cock was an ever present sensation under his body, the head of his shaft already slick with precome rubbing light against the sensitive skin of his hole and the underside of his balls. That mere feeling had Cas’ cock throbbing with anticipation.

Dean again tried to reach Cas lips, and once more Cas stopped him. He placed a hand on Dean’s his chest and forced him to lay down. Dean didn't resist and to reward him, Cas lowered his body and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

“I wanna make you feel good, Dean. Will you let me?” Cas purred in a soft tone.

“Yeah, yes, Cas,” he chanted under his breath.

Cas placed another kiss on Dean's cheek and moved further to reach his ear.

“Then stay still.” His tone now was an order. Cas nibbled Dean's lobe and felt his reaction more than seen it. The hard member quivered and pressed even harder against him. He repressed a moan to keep his appearance of control.

Complying, Dean stayed still. Tried to, in fact. Cas kissed every inch of his skin, a love letter of gentle kisses written from the soft tissue under his ear, across the rough patches near Dean’s beard and the rigid muscles of his chest. He kissed Dean’s bullet wound tendenly so he wouldn’t feel pain, only to show how much Castiel cared about him. The muscles flexed as Dean tried to not writhe under the pleasure induced by Cas’ lips, and channeled it to a low rumble that Cas could feel vibrating in his chest.

Cas released the pressure of his legs and pushed himself back as he continued that kiss fuelled journey until he reached Dean’s navel, all while being extremely careful to not touch Dean’s cock. He had been refraining from using his hands to heighten the sensorial experience in his lips and only then started to use them.

He started by spreading Dean’s legs apart and reached for his knees, tracing the contour of the prominent bones with feather light brushes of his fingers. Going up slowly, Cas continued the soft touch but applied more pressure with his thumbs on the inner thighs.

Dean grasped the bed covers with both hands, a loud grunt escaping his lips.

But still, Dean didn’t move.

Cas felt a rush of arousal and his cock demanding attention. He hesitated, he could use one of his hands to appease his boner while still please Dean. Gathering all his strength, Cas pressed his thumbs harder.

“It is a shame I can’t be inside you today. We do not have lube here. That is the first thing we should get for this room.”

The hands slid all the way up Dean’s thighs and just a little more gently, Cas’ thumb rubbed the exposed perineum to build up his arousal. As if there was more need for it.

The response was immediate, and way more than Cas was expecting. Dean’s body shuddered violently. One of his hands gripped the cover tighter and, boldly disobeying, the other clasped Cas’ wrist.

“Cas…”

He begged, words barely audible. Cas awaited, still rubbing the sensitive spot with the pad of his thumb.

“C-Cas…”

He tried again, but his voice cracked under the overwhelming feelings. Dean shut his eyes.

“Fuck, Cas, please.”

“Please  _ what _ ?”

“Touch me, please.”

“Guide me.”

Slightly shaking, the firm grasp led Cas’ hand to Dean’ member, and though he itched to touch it, hands and mouth and tongue, Cas didn’t.

“What should I do?”

Dean opened his eyes and focused on Cas. His chest rose and fell rhythmically with every hard breath Dean took. It was a delightful view and the idea that Castiel was commanding Dean to command him almost had him coming on the spot.

Cas saw the exact moment when any prudery or awkwardness for verbalising his desire abandoned him.

“Pump me.”

With a wicked grin, Cas wrapped his fingers around the shaft. He adjusted the grip for a better feel of the dilated veins and pumped as requested.

Cas set a slow pace, sliding his palm up until it covered the head and then down, smearing precum along the way until he reached the base. He repeated and Dean watched him intensively. To make it an even better view, Cas grabbed his member with the other hand and pumped himself in the same insufferable slow move. His breathing quickened while he felt both cocks enlarge with each stroke.

“Harder?” Somehow Cas managed to ask.

“Uh-huh.” Dean also nodded affirmatively.

He tightened the fingers and pumped them harder. Rougher. Faster. Sloppier. Greedily chasing the sweet release for both of them. The last view Cas’ eyes captured before shutting was of Dean’s head slumping back and his fisting clenching.

The orgasm came soon enough, driven by the intense arousal and the lack of intimate touches for such a long time. Cas doesn’t relinquish, just eased his grip but continued to pump all the way through their highs and until both his hands were covered with hot cum.

When the aftershocks passed, Cas finally remembered to breathe again. He opened his eyes and released the softening members to caress Dean’s thighs and chest. Dean pushed himself up and met Cas’ lips with a kiss. He was too tired to resist and why should he? Dean’s lips were irresistible.

“We’re definitely getting that lube,” he whispered, a sultry tone making Cas smile.

“We never tried it this way. I mean, me, telling you what to do. Was this… Alright? Are you okay?” Cas questioned, weirdly shy.

Dean’s response was another kiss, just a gentle brush of his lips over Cas’, calm and relaxing, but most of all, reassuring.

“It was perfect Cas. You’re perfect.”

Dean placed kiss on Cas’ forehead and got out of bed. He returned from the bathroom a few seconds later with a washcloth and used it to clean Cas’ hands gently. After they were both clean, Cas laid down for a short rest, but Dean quickly spooned him, strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him against his chest.

That half hour seemed to last an eternity, and also not  enough time. Cas fe lt as if he was drifting in the fabric of space and time. Light, weightless, and carefree. He was oblivious to anything except the constant shiver beginning at the nape of his neck and spreading all the way down to his toes. Dean’s breath made the small hairs stand up and Cas chuckled, body shuddering just a little as he was engulfed by Dean’s arms.

“What?” Dean mumbled against Cas’ skin, sending yet another shiver down his spine, but this time Cas tried to stay still.

“Tickles.” he responded in lowest of tone, a hushed whisper to barely disturb the stillness of the room.

Behind him, Cas felt Dean move, just a little bit to place a soothing kiss at the top of his spine and few others along the shoulder blades. Cas giggled again with the pleasuring sting of Dean’s beard prickling the sensitive skin, and was rewarded with even more tiny kisses. He sighed, contempt, too cozy in the warmth of Dean’s embrace.

“Must confess, beard is a really nice addition.”

Dean nuzzled in the back of Cas’ neck, and he felt his chest expand, heard Dean inhale deeply and then exhale just as deeply, hot breath spreading along Cas’ neck, shoulders and clavicle.

“I missed you,” Dean whispered secretively, as if they had not said that same line many times since Cas’ arrival in Thirteen. However, that one conveyed much more, Cas could tell that even with his eyes closed, even not looking at Dean, just by his tone and the way he pressed himself against Cas like he was his lifeline. It revealed Dean was scared, the inherent fear of one amid an ongoing war with much to lose.

Cas knew it because he felt the same.

“We will be alright.”

And Cas repeated it, like a mantra, like he believed it. He needed to believe it.

He held Dean’s arm tighter and in silence they stood a while longer, unconsciously synching their breaths. Cas finally moved when realized he was almost dozing off. After each of them took a quick shower and properly dressed again in their gray uniforms, they headed to the cafeteria. Dinner was still being served, thankfully, and they joined a table with other soldiers. They chatted with them only occasionally and between each other exchanged a few soft spoken words, but mostly they kept silent.

Once they finished, Cas scanned the cafeteria, looking for Sam that hadn’t joined them for dinner. Instead of him, Cas noticed Claire and Jack seated with other soldiers in training who were about their age. From afar, Cas observed them engaged in a conversation that seemed both serious and entertaining. He elbowed Dean on his side just to catch his attention and pointed with a nod of his head to the view he was basking in.

Both Claire and Jack changed since coming to Thirteen, Claire especially, mostly after discovering she was the only surviving member of her family. More eagerly than even Cas, she signed up and joined the Army of Thirteen, and surprised everyone with her prowess and fury in the simulated battles they used for training.

Jack tried the trainings too, but it didn’t fit his kind nature as well as it did with Claire. Instead, Jack connected with the teachers. There weren’t many children at Thirteen but they were thoroughly educated and Jack, an avid learner with talks for days, immediately bonded with them. He was still attending basic training, but mostly only to know what to do in case he ever found himself in a battlefield.

Cas was marveling at the fact that Jack managed to keep part of his innocence despite the fact he needed to grow up fast to help his family in Four, much like Dean had to, when a sense of being observed took him away from those thoughts. He looked to the sides, and there was Dean, observing him with a tender smile.

“What?” Cas asked with a confused frown.

“You did great with them. You saved their lives, for all we know.”

Cas’ reply was a silent shy smile while he observed Claire apparently describe a weapon training with many hand gestures.

“I don’t like to think what could have happened to them because it reminds me of all the others that still live in Districts. The ones that died of hunger or were murdered in the Games and the ones dying now because of this war.”

With a sigh, Cas looked at Dean again. The smile had vanished, and his eyes were hooded with concern.

“I want them to find happiness and purpose and freedom, and that is all that matters.”

“We’ll all be alright.” Dean repeated like he needed to believe it too.


	26. Let the Good Times Roll

 

If someone asked Dean six months before how his life would be, he would never ever guess what he actually had. Things fell into place pretty quickly, everybody was settled, doing something they enjoyed and with good company. Dean and Castiel had been sharing the same compartment for few days already and despite them not having much time to spend together outside of it other than the meals or training, during the evenings they simply let go of all the worries and frustrations to dedicate completely to the other. Day by day his level of trust and admiration for Cas only increased. He loved Castiel Edlund so damn much and apparently there was no end of it.

When Castiel’s arrival with the kids to District Thirteen completed two weeks, Dean was visited by Finnick during the Gun Training session that morning. First the ex-mentor entered the room quietly and stayed in the back, but it didn’t escape Dean’s attention.

Castiel was participating in the class as well, though he was probably already able to attend a more advanced class by then. Dean didn’t know if Cas was aware of Finnick at first, however it didn’t take long for Cas to realize what Dean was so carefully paying attention to. He acknowledged Finnick with a nod and the class went on for the last few minutes.

As usual, Dean and Cas stayed behind. Finnick approached them calmly with a lazy smile on his face. Since some of the Tributes that were kept captivate in the Capitol were rescued, his girlfriend Annie included, Finnick seemed much better in both emotional and physical ways. He still didn’t look like his old self, though, but maybe his old self was a lie, just like Dean and Cas’ were.

“Mr. Odair.” Dean offered a hand and Finnick promptly took it.

“Please, Dean, we are so far from last name now.” His smile got even kinder and he moved his gaze to Castiel, offering him his hand as well. “You must be Castiel, I believe we haven’t been introduced yet. Finnick Odair.”

Castiel took Finnick’s hand and shook it, smile as light as a feather, very polite, nothing but politeness. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Odair.”

“Same. And hey you two. Such a good pair to have on our side. But more. You are good people. I may have just met you, Castiel, but Plutarch told me about your services in the Capitol. Because of you and your father, we were able to take a big step into planning our entry to the city.”

Finnick stopped waiting for Cas to say something. He, instead, just maintained eye contact and smiled, the one Dean recognized from when Castiel talked to his clients at Wine Heaven.

“And Dean, your leadership was underestimated by leaving you in the kitchens. I understand how you like it there, but your work with the soldiers was a pleasant surprise. I’m glad you accepted the challenge.” Finnick paused again, but that time he didn’t wait for a reply. “Plutarch asked me if I knew about your relationship before the rebellion, which I didn’t.”

“Well,” Dean scratched the back of his neck. “we were, uh, pretty recent and we, uh, didn’t want everyone to know, you know?”

Dean had no idea why his words weren’t helping him. Maybe because he was a little affected about the compliments. It was probably the first time someone that wasn’t his immediate family or his boyfriend to acknowledge his work for the rebellion as important.

“What Dean means is that we were extra careful regarding our relationship due to the Capitol’s prejudice and later due to the danger that the open knowledge of it could put us and the ones under our protection.”

Yeah, Cas had his way with words. Much better than Dean.

“Smart move, Castiel. Still impressed it remained a secret.” Finnick was very sincere, but didn’t say anything else about it. “Well, I’m here to officially invite you two to my wedding.”

“Oh.”

Honestly, Dean didn’t want to sound that surprised. And he wasn’t even surprised that Finnick was getting married, no, he was surprised because a wedding wasn’t an event he could easily picture happening in the bunkers of District Thirteen.

“Dean, I know we didn’t have much of a chance to talk after we arrived,” Finnick continued. “but you are from Four too and our lives relate in some levels. You two need this, a party, a celebration of love. I know you understand the importance of it.”

He nodded, eve n if he didn’t quite see the appeal of it. For him, there wasn’t much difference other than the title and he definitely didn’t need a whole ceremony just to make someone start to call him husband. He looked at Cas and tried to imagine what would happen if he wanted all that and, if he did, if Dean would be willing to go through it.

“Thank you for thinking of us, Mr. Odair.” Cas answered, as Dean didn’t do it himself. “When will be the ceremony?”

“This Friday. I know it’s only in a couple of days but there isn’t much of what to prepare. And with the war going on, I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Without realizing, Dean reached for Cas’ hand and slid their fingers together. That he could relate to.

“We’ll be there, right, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.” Cas smiled, a real and warm smile only for Dean. “We will be there.”

“Great!” Finnick joined the party and smiled too. “Oh! Invite your brother, Sam, he’s welcome too.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Okay, I’ll let you finish here. See you on Friday. No drinking but at least there’ll be dancing.”

Finnick threw them a final wink and left the room. Cas brushed his thumb over Dean’s fingers before letting their hands go. “A party without liquor is a change for me. As well as with music.”

“Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean by that? You mean you never danced?”

“Have you? In the Capitol at least?”

“Yes!”

Right after Dean spoke, he knew he was wrong. The Capitol parties were much alike the one where him and Castiel first met: lots of alcohol, finger food and excuses to dress up like if the place was a runway. No music. The realization took him over and Castiel smiled, observing Dean processing each information.

“As I told you, no music.” Castiel said. “Hence, no dancing abilities.”

“Now, we just gotta fix that.”

 

 

Dancing never was Dean’s favorite activity when he lived in Four, honestly. But girls dug a guy who could dance, so, why not learn it? Four’s typical dance wasn’t complicated and it wasn’t much different from the other District’s dances. It was easy to be followed once you knew the basic steps. There were movements including hand holding in a circle, wrapping arms in front and in the back, going forward and then backward. It was usually danced in small or big groups, but not only in groups the dancing was done. It had important steps in pairs and those were the ones Dean wanted to teach Cas that night after supper.

“Cas, a hand with the bed, will ’ya?”

“What are you doing?”

Dean tried to lift the bed up, but he couldn’t do it alone, especially with his shoulder still a little sore. The bed was made of metal structure and the mattress was still on.

“Moving this thing up so I can teach you how to dance.”

“I don’t believe it is necessary for-”

“Cas, don’t even try to reason with me. We are absolutely doing this.”

With a sigh, Castiel helped him to lift the bed up. The room was still rather small, but they would be able to take a few steps around.

“Cas, relax, you’re too tense.”

“You are not the one trying something you are sure to fail.”

“Cas. You were working undercover knowing that they would assassinate you if they found out.” Dean brought his hands to Castiel’s shoulders and rubbed his thumb in circles, putting some pressure on them. Cas closed his eyes, face more relaxed already. “You are a badass. You will do just fine with a dance.”

Blood rushed under Castiel’s skin in the neck. Dean loved that reaction. Usually he would continue, provoke just to observe the redness growing. Then he would ease that with his own hands, sometimes his lips. However, that was not the proper time, he had to teach Cas how to dance.

First, Dean explained to him how the whole idea of how the dances worked, one big group, small groups, and pairs. Cas nodded after each information, following what Dean said with attention. Then they should dance.

Usually there wasn’t the need for one to lead, but because there was no song and Cas didn’t know the steps, Dean would be leading. The dance also didn’t have any female or male roles; it was a dance of equality, designed to share the joy of the moment.

Positioned in front of Cas, Dean held his hands. Cas' body immediately stiffened again with the touch. However, it only lasted for a second; the shoulders relaxed and the air left his lungs, hot against Dean's face. Dean brought both of Cas' hands up and touched the knuckles with his lips.

"Don't worry, sunshine, I got you."

Despite being years since the last time Dean danced, he remembered the movements very well, even without music. Still, he was impressed with how easily his body followed the pictures in his memory. Dean went slow, to make sure Cas learnt the movements properly.

"They are not complicated alone." Cas said, eyes locked on their feet. "The problem is the variety of them and once they are mixed up."

"You are doing awesome, Cas." Dean reinforced. “We don’t need to dance if you don’t want to.”

“But I do. It is important to you.”

Dean wanted to say that it wasn’t, but that would be a lie. Though dancing wasn’t his favorite activity - like swimming was, for example - sharing it with Cas felt like belonging. Like home. Dean stopped the dancing for a moment to hug Cas, who didn’t ask questions, just embraced Dean for as long as Dean wanted. They went back to dancing eventually.

Every time a step demanded them to be closer, Dean felt like not letting Castiel go at all. They were sharing one of his District’s traditions for maybe the first time, it was important to him, it was part of his identity. Being able to dance around with the one he loved without expecting judgment, just for the pure pleasure of being happy was overwhelming in the best possible way.

Because the compartment wasn't big, it didn't take long for the room to start to get too warm. Cas' temples started to shine and their palms and fingers to glide with every touch. They didn't stop, though. Cas had already memorized the most common steps and soon he was taking the lead in a silent agreement.

Castiel was a natural leader when it came to dancing. No big news there, Castiel was a good leader in several aspects of life, as Dean was finding out himself. Cas was respectful, never pushing Dean around like a doll. He only did what his obligation was: to lead. He was attentive of what step would be easier for Dean to perform next, every move done gracefully and beautifully.

Soon they fell into a pattern of steps, eyes locked, almost not blinking. The air was thick and their clothes were sticking against their skin.

“Dean.” Cas said, voice rough for not being used for some time. “You are looking at me that way again.”

“What way?”

“Hm, how did you word it...? Hm, you said I looked hot.”

And damn right he was. Dean had been letting Cas lead the steps around the room, so focused on his handsome face that he didn’t realize that they were next to the closed door. One more push and Dean had his whole body against it. Cas was quick to catch on how much Dean enjoyed that kind of handling, maybe he noticed even before Dean did himself.

While Dean’s breath was fighting to exist, hurting his lungs and making his chest feel heavy and light at the same time, Cas’ air ran in and out in a steady rhythm, matching how his hands were on Dean’s hip bone, firm in a tight hold.

“Cas…”

“Yes, Dean?” Only that Dean didn’t know what to say. “Do you want to say something? Maybe… ask for something?”

“I don’t know, Cas, you tell me.”

It was a failed attempt to make a joke. He didn’t know what to say, that was true, but honestly, Dean didn’t want to be one telling what to do. He did that all day, he had the weight of a mountain on his shoulders, teaching whole squads how to defend themselves for the danger they absolutely were going to face. But with Cas he felt safe enough to just comply. Dean knew Castiel would take care of him, of both of them. There would never be bad things or wrong things, only the sensation of diving in pleasure and love.

“What are you willing to do, Dean?”

“Anything.”

“Great.” Cas paused, eyes clearly traveling on Dean’s face, stopping on his lips.

Castiel took his time on moving one of his hands from the Dean’s hipbone to the lips. Dean was calmer now, knowing Cas had control and he didn’t need to worry about anything. His shoulders gave in to Cas’ touch and Dean raised his chin just a little.

“You have gorgeous lips.” Cas said, touching his thumb and forefinger on Dean’s chin and pulling it down gently.

“Thank… you?”

“It is true. They are made to sin, Dean. And that’s what I want. Do you want that?”

“Yes. Anything.”

“Good. On your knees.”

Castiel’s words hit Dean in fast waves, all of them ending on his crotch. It was a mixture between arousal and pleasure, but also longing and satisfaction. They weren’t in a hurry, Dean lowered one knee at a time and Cas petted his hair during the process.

“I love you, Dean.”

And he loved Cas as well, only he would share his feelings not with words this time, but with actions. Castiel slowly undressed himself in front of Dean, who devoured that body with his eyes, eager to touch. However, he didn’t, hands remained on his sides, not touching Cas nor himself, even though he wasn’t forbidden to do either.

Once undressed, Cas didn’t need to tell Dean what he wanted, both wanted. Dean took his time too, touching his boyfriend’s body slowly, enjoying all of the responses Cas was giving him.

Pleasure Cas was the wrong way to word it. It was mutual pleasuring. Lips around Cas, feeling his hot member inside his mouth and against his tongue was driving Dean insane. He almost couldn't hold his moans, that were kept inside his throat behind Cas’ slow short thrusts. Cas was pretty much in the same state, eyes closed and head dropped back. The sharp lines of his jaw and his prominent adam’s apple were incredibly inviting. Dean wanted to go for a session of long and open mouthed kisses and licks, but he didn’t. Instead, Dean remained down ignoring his trapped cock, the wetness of precome dampening his underwear, Cas’ fingers tangling on his hair and holding him right where he wanted.

Not long after that, Dean was pulled up and pressed against the wall again, being kissed fiercely by a not so patient Castiel. His clothes were basically torn apart. With his senses only increased, the coldness of the metal door almost felt like burning against his hot skin and warm air of the room. Dean wished the bed was down, but Castiel didn’t seem to care, he explored Dean’s body the same way he would do in the bed, deifying him every second.

They didn’t speak, too lost in lust and shared connection, there was no need to verbalize the moment. Every little touch was potentialized and he couldn’t neglect his erection anymore. His intention was to give himself only a few strokes and stop, but as soon as Cas noticed what Dean was about to do, he took a few steps away. Dean stopped instantly.

“No. Keep doing,” Cas said. “I want to see you.”

“Fuck.”

And he did what he was told. Cas mirrored him and suddenly he didn’t know if he was doing it to please Cas or otherwise. It was both pleasurable and torturous. He wanted more, he needed more. Dean moaned Cas’ name and the man understood.

Cas went back to Dean, but not before turning him around. The burning feeling of the metal door against Dean’s hot front body was back, so intense, so good. Cas was simply worshipping Dean in every way he could, taking him apart little by little. Cas wouldn't let him do anything, so he just closed his eyes and enjoyed his overly sensitive skin being allured by his boyfriend.

Castiel took a few steps back and left Dean alone, but he didn’t move. He knew Cas was only getting lube and the expectation for what was about to come was astonishing. Even though Cas’ mouth worked fast on Dean’s shoulders and neck, kissing, licking, and biting it, his fingers worked slowly on Dean.

Everything screamed for a hard and quick fuck: bodies pressed firm against the wall, harsh touches and grips, both panting and moaning. Yet that wasn’t what happened. They made love. Cas kissed Dean’s nape while whispered how much he loved him. His hands slid Dean’s arms, causing shivers through his body, and enlaced their fingers together on the wall. A slow rhythm was paced, more comfortable than Dean would ever imagined for sex against the wall. It was safe. Secure. Full of love. He didn’t feel like as one anymore; he was Cas and Cas was him. Dean wanted to live in that moment forever.

Dean felt Cas’ hands sliding up his arms and down his body, stopping on the hip bone right where all of that started.

The thrusts became harder, but still tender. Dean bent over a little more, head dropped, eyes closed. He could feel that Cas was close, maybe as close as himself. He neglected his own body on purpose just to feel Castiel, also because he knew that at the moment he touched himself, he would be done.

Cas was the first one to come, chanting Dean’s name to himself. He continued moving a little more, now holding Dean in hand and stroking him fast. He told Dean how incredible he was, how perfect his body was, how perfect Dean was for him. After Dean orgasmed with a silent scream, Cas turned Dean over and they hugged. Dean didn’t want to let go of Cas.

“I’m not letting you go.”  Cas said, as he was reading Dean’s mind. “I’m never leaving you, Dean.”

“Good.”

Even if they physically had to be apart again, one thing Dean was sure of was that their hearts would never be two again, they belonged to each other.

 

 

“Heya, Sammy,” Dean knocked on the door. “Are you in there?”

There was a moment of silence followed by footsteps. Sam opened the door, messy hair and sleepy face.

“Dean. Something happened? It’s really early, you know?”

“Are you going to invite me in or not?”

Clearly still not quite happy with the early visit, Sam opened the door wider to let Dean in. Only one of the beds was made up, which told Dean that Sam’s roommate was out.

“Is your roommate ever here?”

“No, actually. Don’t know if he doesn’t like me or what..”

“Well, can’t say I relate, my roomie loves me.”

Sam bitch faced Dean. “If I had a girlfriend and we shared the same room, I wouldn’t complain either. But what are you doing here so early?”

“Busy ass schedule, I figured it would be better to talk to you now.”

“Something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong.” Sam sat back on his bed and Dean took his place on the opposite bed. “Finnick Odair talked to me and Cas yesterday and guess what, he invited us to his wedding.”

Sam didn’t say nothing at first, just kept staring at Dean, eyes semi closed. Dean waited just because he didn’t know what else to say, his words were very clear.

“Let’s see if I get this: You woke up very early in the morning to let me know you and Cas were invited to Finnick Odair’s wedding? Is that it?”

“Yes, but you were invited too. And it’s not that early, you have to wake up like in five minutes.”

“So Finnick’s wedding, uh? When?”

“This Friday.” Sam’s eyes widen in surprise. “Yeah, I know, he said something about not wasting time, because of the war and stuff.”

“He isn’t wrong. Not long ago you thought you we were never going to see Cas again, remember?” Dean well remembered that. “Do you think of doing the same with Cas?”

“What? Wedding stuff? No, not really.”

Sam looked at Dean, confused. “I thought he was it for you.”

“And he is.” He answered without hesitation. “I just don’t see the need to make a big event about it. Don’t know, I really just don’t feel I need that to show Cas that he is it for me.”

“Makes sense, I guess.” Sam nodded, thinking about Dean’s words. “I think that if one day I find the right one I will want all the wedding thing.”

“Of course you will, Samantha, you always loved those. First we gotta leave this place. If my little brother is going to make me dress up for his wedding, ain’t doing it here, no.”

They laughed. The easy laughter between brothers were each day more difficult to happen as a result of the ongoing war. Dean missed those moments very much. It reminded him of what Finnick said about them needing to take a break. He was absolutely right.

That was why when Friday came Dean decided to take a break from his rebel suit (not literally, because they still had to wear the Thirteen’s uniform to the wedding) and shave off his beard. He didn’t tell Cas because he wanted to see his boyfriend reaction to the change.

“Oh, no.”

There wasn’t any urgency in Cas’ voice. Nor disappointment. Neither happiness. Or surprise. Dean was confused, it was hard to understand what was going on inside Cas’ mind.

“What?” He finally asked, like he didn’t know what was all that about. “Something wrong?”

“Wrong? No, absolutely not.”

Castiel stepped closer and touched Dean’s face. The skin was smooth and he was able to really feel Cas’ touch for the first time in months. Since Dean had been avoiding shaving, a beard wasn’t something he could afford before while working in a kitchen and since his schedule in Thirteen was so tight, he preferred to let the hair on his face just grow.

“You don’t like?” Dean asked, seriously worried about it.

“Dean. I love you. Beard or no beard. It just got me by surprise.”

“So you don’t like it.”

“That was absolutely not what I said.”

“You didn’t say you love it either.”

Cas rolled his eyes. “I do love it. Am I gonna miss the beard? Maybe. But I did miss the sensation of kissing your face.”

With that, Cas kissed Dean’s cheeks several times. Dean just let him, because he loved it. However, they had a wedding to attend.

“Cas, sunshine, we have to go. Sam’s probably waiting and I don’t want him to come here and find us having such a good time.

“It is a good time, isn’t it?” Cas kisses took a different turn, giving attention to Dean’s neck.

“What about dancing? Don’t you want to go dancing and show everyone your new skills?”

Dean felt Cas’ laughter puff against his throat. “If it ends up like the last time we danced?”

“You’re insatiable today!”

“I know, I know.” Castiel stepped back, apologizing. “It is just- Mr. Odair was right. About us not having much time to spend together before the war bursts and end. And we cannot know how it is going to end.”

“You saying… You want to get married?”

Cas smiled. “I do not think we need a ceremony just to let people know what we  know. I love you. You love me.”

“Good to know.” Dean sighed, a little relieved. “I don’t know about you, but you are it for me, Cas.”

“How dare you, Dean, of course I feel the same way.” Cas’ smile got bigger and he got closer again, placing a single kiss on Dean’s lips. “Not leaving each other ever again, right?”

“That’s right, not going anywhere.”

 

 

 


	27. The End

 

Loving Dean was like having a dome around them whenever they were together, but each day the atmosphere in Thirteen got tenser. Since the capture of The Nut in District Two, the commanders of the Rebels had been planning the invasion of the Capitol. As expected, all the military force had been rerouted to protect the city, what Castiel briefly glimpsed before fleeing, and what was once a supposedly easier mission since all the Districts were united became an intricate battle plan requiring much preparation and patience.

They needed to find a way to bypass the minefield of pods populating the capitol like a deadly infestation. Castiel and his father were of much help and their work mapping the city was the reason why the location of most pods were known and up to date. However, there were many new pods put in place after the abrupt end of Castiel’s mission and those were making the advance excruciatingly slow. And bloody.

Cas knew these things by eavesdropping on some conversations here and there, at Command meetings or from soldiers at training commenting that another soldier was wounded or killed in action. From time to time, a new wave of fallen soldiers arrived in the infirmaries or a deployment was shipped to the Capitol. If Cas didn’t already know it, the short numbers of soldiers in training, especially after Finnick’s wedding, would have made it clear that the fight was advancing in the Capitol.

After the ceremony, Dean was returned to his position as a melee instructor. His shoulder had healed almost entirely and except the recommendation to avoid extreme efforts, he was cleared for his regular activities.

They spent the following days in that fashion. Castiel doing gun training in the morning while Dean followed his own schedule, and sharing the rest of the day together, either with lunch or the combat session in the afternoon or in their room at night. It was still the same generic room, but the bedsheets were claimed with their scents. Their intimacy continued to deepen day by day, and Cas was resolute to find all the pleasure points in Dean’s body.

It was easy to forget about the ongoing war when he felt Dean’s skin against his, but not so much when Commander Paylor, from District Eight, had her speech televised to all Thirteen. She was at the Capitol, and a crowd of rebels massed to hear her instructions. Her confident voice blared through all the cafeteria while everyone had their eyes on the television.

“For the first time in our lifetimes, we're standing together with thirteen districts. From what I see here, we've already made history.”

A roar of screams and applause echoed from the speakers and the soldiers were all now standing up in respect for one the Commanders of the rebellion. She continued on, instructing them to not target civilians and to be careful about the pods in the City.

“If we die, let it be for a cause and not a spectacle. If we succeed, let it be for all of Panem, and let it be forever. Yes, you've already made history. But the future, our future, starts tomorrow at dawn, when we march together into the Capitol.”

Another round of applause started at the end of the speech and noise filled the cafeteria once more. With an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach, Cas clapped too, more in respect for the woman he heard for the first time and showed more decency than others he had met in Thirteen, than for real readiness for that last stage of the war. Because that was what it was: their last chance to take down Snow’s rule or perish trying. What would happen if the latter came to pass? Castiel didn’t want to think about it.

The eve of battle speech provided a morale boost to the soldiers both already in the Capitol and still in Thirteen, Castiel included, even with his feelings at odds. He trained hard on the following days and harder again when the news of casualties arrived and more soldiers were deployed. In their training, Cas was sure Dean was straining himself, pushing beyond the limits of his body.

It was the time with more information running free in Thirteen than he had ever seen. The advances were shared every morning, and important minor victories were broadcast in all the televisions, much like the mandatory viewings Cas used to see in the Capitol.

One of these interruptions happened during Dean’s melee classes, and was different from all others. It informed them that Katniss, Finnick, Peeta and the rest of the ‘Star Squad’ had been killed by peacekeepers after they had fallen in the trap of one of the pods. Wide eyed, all the soldiers in training watched an exchange of gunshots between the peacekeepers and someone hidden inside an apartment complex until it exploded and fell. By his side, Cas saw Dean cover his mouth in shock, but his whisper ‘ _Finnick, no_ ’ still escaped though his fingers.

Not much long after, another broadcast, this time from President Snow, trying to convey mercy when evidently mocking the rebels. Unaware of it, Castiel took a few steps back, distancing himself from the television and from Snow’s face as if he wasn’t already miles away. He was cut short by Coin, shaken and on the verge of tears, who praised Katniss’ accomplishments and urged the rebels to continue the fight.

Standing beside Dean, Cas looked at his stern expression, brows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line, somehow looking both concerned and anxious for what was to come. While the noise from the talk of the other training soldiers increased and filled the room, Dean looked back at Cas. _The end was near_ , his eyes screamed with silent words.

From then, things only spiraled down, though, as expected, Katniss’ death didn’t mean the end of the Revolution by a long shot. In fact, after dinner, everyone remaining in Thirteen was called to a gathering at the Collective, the enormous room used for announcements. Uneasiness spread like wildfire while they waited for Coin’s speech, the deafening sound of unceasing talk echoing in the chamber. In a weak attempt to find calm, Cas searched for Dean’s hands while, again, they stood side by side. Suddenly, Cas remembered Dean’s promise when they last saw each other still in the Capitol. _I’ll never leave you again_ , he had said, and it was the commitment to those words, along with the soothing warmth of his hands, that calmed Castiel.

Coin’s words were not unexpected with all the recent events, but Cas still felt as if someone had erased the floor from under his feet and a knot that didn’t seem would be vanishing soon formed in his throat. Except for a small contingent for essential activities, every able bodied soldier over eighteen years old, whether of high rank or still in training, should be sent to the Capitol to join the rebel force in a last blow against Snow’s rule. Their departure would happen at 11pm that night.

The speech as brief and dry. There was no encouraging words, there was no sense of bonding over one goal as did Commander Paylor’s. Alma Coin instructed her soldiers, just a master assigning orders to her subordinates. There was an ovation and in a matter of minutes, people were leaving to prepare for the departure.

Castiel was not so naive as to think he was never going to face the war with his own eyes, after all he had been training exactly for that. Still, he was tense with an ominous feeling leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. At least Jack and Claire were not going to be shipped to the Capitol to fight, what made things slightly less terrible.

Cas didn’t release Dean’s hand. He didn’t move but neither did Dean nor did Sam on Dean’s other side. The knot was blocking Cas’ throat, preventing him from making the idea audible.

They were going to war.

 

 

The hovercraft landed with a soft thud but it was still enough to wake Cas up. Not that he was sleeping. No, there was no way he could sleep even though his body begged for rest. In fact, Castiel’s eyes were wide and blindly focused on the metal wall behind the soldier sitting across the corridor, while his mind was buried in thoughts shielding him from almost everything around him. He was vaguely aware of Dean sitting next to him when their knees touched briefly. With the landing, his body jerked with the impact and Cas blinked several times to refocus.

The scene around him was still the same. About fifty soldiers, fully clothed in combat uniforms and heavily geared, sat side by side along the hovercraft corridor. During the flight to the Capitol, most of them slept and some spoke with each other in hushed voices. They ruffled in their seats to remove the safety belts and prepared to disembark. Their movement reminded Cas he should be doing the same.

He sat up straight and reached on his side to unfasten the belt. Dean was ready to leave and looked at Cas with a hint of concern, barely noticeable behind the tiredness evident in the dark bags under his eyes.

"Are you okay? Why didn't you sleep?"

Dean shrugged away his question. "You didn't sleep either."

"Couldn't close my eyes."

Cas didn't want to talk about what kept him awake and much to his relief, the exchange was cut short by the sound of the hatch opening and the soldiers walking out. He seized the machine gun laying across his lap, one identical to that he used in his first class with Dean, grabbed the strap of the backpack waiting on the floor between his feet and swung it over his shoulder while he stood up.

Sam, who was sitting near the cockpit, was the last in the line of soldiers heading out. He approached them and patted his brother on the shoulder.

"Come on, they'll assign us squads and missions now."

The taller Winchester led them through the confusing mess of soldiers standing in the patio of the rebel headquarters, a preserved military facility on the outside of the Capitol captured in the beginning of the assault. The sky was still dark, but how deep in the night they were Cas couldn't tell. His brain basically forgot the concept of time since the departure from Thirteen, and now many spotlights illuminated the patio, making it as bright as day.

There were many groups of soldiers chatting and checking their weapons, a few even with the privilege of having a small fire to keep warm. It was a cold night in the open, the chilly wind mercilessly stinging Cas' eyes and cheekbones. Others were sitting on the ground or laying in their sleeping bags. Cas stopped counting the injured when the number passed twenty.

Sam took them to a tent barely peeking out in middle of a crowd of newly arrived soldiers. Thirteen had sent four fully packed hovercrafts and it seemed people were still arriving from the Districts to join the fight. Tall and imposing, Sam easily cleared a path to the tent, and Dean and Cas followed in the vacuum left behind him. Sam was also the one who took the lead to talk with one of the rebels assigning the squads. The tag on his lapel read Lt. R. Turner and his expression seemed to be permanently struck with annoyance. Sam flashed the man a large and friendly smile in an attempt to gain his trust.

"Hi, I'm, uh, Sam Winchester and these are Dean Winchester and Castiel Edlund." He paused while the man looked for their names in a long list and put a check mark on each. "Sir, is there any way we can be put in the same squad?"

"Units are assigned randomly. I'm not here to make you any favor."

Sam immediately changed his approach to puppy eyes and raised his hands trying to contain the damage. "It's not a favor, Lieutenant Turner. See, Dean is my brother and we know each other very well which means we work together well in a battlefield. And Castiel is Dean's apprentice, so it's best he stays with people that have his back covered. What I’m saying is it’s not a favor, sir, the three of us staying together is in the best interest of the Rebellion. And I bet you also have the Rebellion’s best interest in mind, am I right?”

It was a long shot, and Sam could get much more for his impertinence than another rude reply. Lt. Turner narrowed his eyes at Sam, only increasing the annoyed expression, and was silent for a long time. Without saying a word, he looked down and ruffled many paper sheets until he found what he was looking for.

“Squad 504 had three casualties in their last incursion, you three are with them now. You answer to Second Lieutenant Mills. Last I knew she was near the ammunition stock.”

Sam thanked him profusely but the continuous annoyed look made them quickly go away. After questioning other soldiers where they could find Lt. Mills or the ammunition stock, once again the three navigated among the crowd.

The tent was easy to find, and the woman cleaning her weapons with ‘2LT Mills’ written on the pocket of her uniform canvas jacket made it clear they were in the right place.

“Excuse me, lieutenant Mills?” Sam approached the woman, who looked up at three with a stern blank face, and extended a hand to greet her. “We were assigned to your unit. I’m Sam Winchester.”

Dean waved his hand. “I’m his brother, Dean Winchester.”

Cas just nodded once. “Castiel Edlund.”

The woman took a good look at them and finally shook Sam’s hand.

“Jody Mills.” She put the semi-assembled weapon aside and got up to her feet. “Welcome to 504. Come on in, I’ll show you the rest of the unit and where you’ll stay.”

Shooting an encouraging smile at them, Sam followed the woman inside. Dean shrugged and both he and Cas entered the tent too. It was as simple as it could be: there was a common area with table for meals, some cabinets for storage, and six cot beds side by side. Two of those were already occupied, the last one on the corner by a young blonde woman and the next one by a man.

“Ketch!” Dean exclaimed, seeming sort of glad to recognize a face there.

The man seemed to share that feeling and had a tight smile on his lips. He nodded in acknowledgement. “Winchesters.”

“Oh, great, so you know Arthur Ketch, he’s our sniper. And Bela Talbot, weapon and combat specialist.” As Jody finished the introductions, the blonde nodded too but otherwise remained silent. “We’re joining the fight tomorrow morning, when rebels are planning a big assault in an attempt to siege the City Circle. Choose a bed, make yourselves comfortable, get some rest ‘cause you’ll need it.”

After Jody left, each of them picked a bed. Cas deposited on the floor everything he didn’t need to immediately carry: the machine gun, his backpack, the chest plate and the thigh holster. Part of the weight dragging him down was lifted, but part of it was psychological, he knew it.

Despite that, Cas laid on the bed, closed his eyes and tried to rest, as they were advised. He could hear Dean and Ketch talking in a low tone while the latter informed the stage of the invasion and what happened with their unit earlier. Lulled by Dean’s grave whisper, at some point Cas fell into a restless sleep.

 

 

It was still dark when Cas woke up and it took him a couple of seconds to remember he no longer was in Thirteen. On the other beds, Dean, Ketch and Bela were still asleep, but Sam and Jody were already having breakfast in the dimly lit makeshift kitchen. Cas rubbed his eyes and stretched up his stiff back before getting up.

"Morning, Cas."

"Good morning, Sam." He sat with them and nodded to both. "Lieutenant."

"You can call me Jody if I can call you Cas too." The woman had a light smile and Cas even attempted to return it but he wasn't sure if he succeeded.

"Sure, Jody."

Cas poured himself some coffee in one of the clean cups on the table. The hot liquid reminded him of the cold temperature and he wrapped his hands around the cup to capture its warmth while taking small sips.

“Hm, Jody, you were saying you were a peacekeeper...” Sam said.

“Yeah.”

“I don’t wanna come off as rude of anything, but it’s so strange to have peacekeepers on the rebel side.”

"I know, it’s quite unusual. But there were few other peacekeepers like me that rebelled right at the beginning of the revolution.”

“But I still don’t understand… I mean, you are _peacekeepers_ , you’re the hammerhead of the Capitol. So, what changed your mind? How did you end up on our side?”

“Well, peacekeepers do have a very prized position in Panem, it provides more money and more food and your family doesn't starve if you can manage the resources carefully. But not even being a peacekeeper stops your children from being reaped to the Games, so I would say I had a pretty good reason to side with the rebels."

Cas lifted his eyes at the woman in front of him. He understood why, despite acting quite gently, Jody Mills carried a strength he hadn't seen in anyone else. Maybe in Claire. Suddenly, the knot in his stomach made itself present again.

"Oh. I-I'm so sorry, Jody;" Sam said in an earnest whisper, and Cas wondered if the empathy in his eyes was because he still felt responsible for the fate of his half brother Adam.

The table fell silent then, each sipping their coffee. Back in Thirteen they were surrounded by people who were basically soldiers trained from infancy, but the core of the rebellion was mostly composed of citizens from all Districts and it was easy to forget peacekeepers also suffered in Snow's hands.

Not long after, those still asleep woke up too and joined the table. They made quick and short introductions, in which Cas discovered Bela Talbot was from District One and had trained to be a career tribute, but never ended up in the Games.

At dawn, they put on the full gear, packed their bags with food, water, and even more ammunition, and Jody guided them out of the HQ and into the Capitol. In a line of pairs (Jody and Bela up front, Dean and Castiel in the middle, and Sam and Ketch at the rear) and flanked by another unit, they began their long way to the front line of the battle which was still many blocks ahead.

The rebel formation spread for many blocks to the side, with two units per road, a strategy devised to provide an even advance of the troops, avoid human loss in big crowds and also perform a thorough check for remaining pods. The squad leaders carried holos, devices to which Cas was very familiar, that showed the location of known pods, many of which had already been activated. At every intersection, the formation halted and the next block was scanned for safe passage.

Nothing could prepare Castiel for the sight of the Capitol. The once populous and colorful city had been reduced to dust and ashes in desaturated gray hues, much like District Thirteen to Cas’ dismay. On the first few blocks, more buildings were destroyed than still standing up. Those that survived had a countless number of bullet holes, others managed to sustain blasts from explosions and almost every one had soot stains from already extinguished fires. It was deserted and only the sound of the marching rebels echoed in the perpendicular alleys.

The sound of gunfire reached them in a muffled form due to the distance but it was a constant reminder they were walking in a battleground despite the barren land. Slowly, but with no surprise attacks, they were nearing the center portion of the Capitol. The desolation persisted, destruction was still a constant though progressively more buildings remained up. In those, through a dusty window, sometimes Castiel could spot a terrified face that soon disappeared again.

Once they were past the outer part of the city, the signs of destruction pointed to more recent skirmishes. Dark smoke from ongoing fires in other streets clouded the sky above them, and upon reaching an intersection, Cas could see the indistinguishable form of a building still ablaze. Parks and squares barely resembled the public spaces that Castiel would visit, and now were merely a deposit of debris and toppled cars. More ominously, patches of blood were still visible on the ground, mixing with the melting snow that fell during the night.

Except the squad leaders approving the advancement to the next block, silence reigned from the soldiers. Cas’ heart beat in rhythm with the tapping of boots on the ground, almost like it was the one thing that kept it alive. When they stopped at intersections and an unquiet silence filled that heavy air, Castiel felt as if it had stopped working altogether. His legs carried him closer to the noises of battle without conscious decision as he clung to the weapon in his hands, left one under the barrel, right one on the grip with his index hovering near the trigger, as Dean once taught him, pointing it down for safety. This time, however, the gun was fully loaded.

Taking a look at Dean striding by his side, Cas could see the apprehension on his features creating hard lines across his brow and tight lips. Somehow he also looked stern and determined, which shot a spark of emboldenment up Cas’ blood stream. Dean seemed to notice his stare and looked at Cas. He actually smiled, just a small curve in the corner of his lips turning them upward and, for the moment, the jittering feeling still lingering in Cas’ stomach seemed to vanish. Both nodded and returned their focus on the path ahead.

The march continued on towards the City Circle. From what Cas could identify, they followed through a street a few blocks to the side of the avenue that ended on the presidential mansion, and the path in front of them was mostly clear. On the parallel streets, things didn’t go as well. The noise of an explosion and the fumes rising above the buildings indicated an explosion happened on the other side of the block and the absence of soldiers at the next intersection confirmed they didn’t make it. Still, they continued marching.

They were still over half a mile away from the City Circle when a rain of shots came down on them, shredding the concrete ground in front of their feet and hitting soldiers among the other unit.

Momentarily shocked, Cas barely noticed the bodies falling, or from where the shots were coming. As trained, his instinctive reaction was to lower his body, rise up his weapon ready to shoot and seek shelter with the rest of his unit. Stumbling on the rubble and jumping with each more accurate shot almost hitting their feet, they all crouched on the side of an abandoned tank.

Cas’ heart was beating hard in a surge of adrenaline as he rested his back against the metal. The others bundled in the small space and somehow he ended up pressed between Jody and Dean. The lieutenant tentatively peeked over the car, trying to get visuals on who was shooting them, and Dean had turned to Cas and put a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” He almost seemed scared to ask.

“Yeah, I’m not hit.”

Jody was still searching for their assailants, but it took her only a few seconds to spot them. “Snipers on the roof of the buildings on the corner.”

“I got them, just give me cover,” Ketch’s voice came from the other side of Jody and not waiting for the command, he got up and rushed to the nearest building. Bela, crouching near the car’s engine, got up just enough to fire distracting shots at the snipers. Once Ketch passed the building’s entrance, she hid behind the car again.

“What the hell?” Jody muttered, getting everyone’s attention. “The people, they’re all coming out to the street. It seems like they are going to the mansion… Oh, crap. Peacekeepers are coming.”

“How many?” Dean asked, already preparing to open fire. Jody sat down among them, gesturing for him to wait.

“About fifteen of them, I think. We can take them down, but we gotta wait for Ketch to get rid of those snipers first,” she spoke while checking her own weapon and once sure it was ready to go, Jody returned to her position to watch the peacekeepers advancing.

Once again, things were silent. No more gunfire was exchanged between them and from their position in between blocks they couldn’t see what was happening with the other units.

Cas hadn’t come down from his adrenaline rush yet, and though he managed to put his breathing under control, blood still pumped on his ears. He gripped tightly on the handle of his weapon while they all waited for what could be a minute or an hour. He didn’t dare look at the fallen bodies on the street, but as he realized that would be the last blow to his courage, Castiel also decided to take a stand.

He was afraid to his bones of what could happen, a feeling somehow present in him ever since Dean left the Capitol, growing a little bit everyday with the urgency of war. It climaxed at that moment, seeing the destruction and the casualties of battle, so close, so substantial. Life was a fleeting frail thing that could end in a second when you are not paying attention. The thought chilled him more than the cold weather. But he couldn’t give in to fear. If he did, all he ever did in the Capitol, all the lies, all the risks he faced never minding the consequences, all would be in vain.

The only outcome of this war had to be a win for the rebels. And they were very close to it now. Cas couldn’t succumb to the threat of danger.

As he took a deep breath in a sudden swipe of resolution and determination, an explosion was heard much closer, and Jody ducked down behind the car to protect herself. Castiel’s knee-jerk reaction was to protect his head as well, but this time, no debris reached their barricade. Soon after they also heard a gunshot.

“Everyone, fire now!” Jody rallied and all of them got up and pointed their weapons over the car.

In a second, Cas captured the whole scene in front of them.

The explosion had happened in the building to the right and part of the side of the structure collapsed. Smoke and dust rose and clouded their vision of the street after that block. The gunshot probably hit the other sniper. And in the middle of the intersection, the group of peacekeepers stood, guns pointed in all directions, still stunned by the sudden explosion.

Castiel pulled the trigger more harshly than needed and a hail of gunshots, from his weapon and from all the other soldiers beside him, took the peacekeepers by surprise. Several were hit before they could even fire back but when they located the rebels, the peacekeepers bombarded the car in retaliation. Cas couldn’t tell if he had hit someone in the confusion, but once he noticed one of their enemies running towards the barricade, he remembered his training.

Peacekeepers wore a thick and long chest plate, shoulder pads and helmets for protection, but their combat gear had weak spots on the neck line and pelvic area. Using the sniper scope attached to his machine gun, Cas aimed for the neck.

He hesitated for a split second.

And then he pulled the trigger.

Blood tinged the peacekeeper’s white armour as his body jerked back with the impact of the bullet and he fell, already lifeless.

Four other peacekeepers were still up and getting near the barricade. With the corner of his eye, Cas noticed when Jody dropped her weapon and reached for something on the pouches of her belt.

“Grenade!” She bellowed the warning for them to take cover and hurled the object towards the remaining peacekeepers. Cas had just enough time to duck down when the impact of the explosion violently shook the car. They all waited a few seconds, but no more gunshots were heard. Slowly they rose their heads to look and all the peacekeepers on the ground, defeated, all of them covered in shrapnel from the blast. One of them still tried to crawl away, but his right arm was twisted in a weird angle, making the getaway impossible. Bela put a bullet through his brain and he stopped moving.

“Come on, we need to keep going.”

Resuming their formation, including Ketch that had come back to ground level, they ran ahead, passing the bodies and jumping over the blocks of concrete obstructing the street. This close to the center of the City and where people were still living, the pods were deactivated, and because of that they could advance without the fear of falling in one of the traps.

Castiel didn’t see the rest of the units in the next intersection, they had been hindered by the peacekeepers. Past the dust and clouds from all the explosions, he could see the citizens of the Capitol much further still going towards the City Circle, but they were flowing into the connecting alleys to reach Snow’s mansion through the front gate.

They ran without any further hindrance until Jody halted in one of the intersections. A massive gathering of rebels waited in the alley near the main street. Jody changed the course and they hurried to join the others. She greeted a few among the crowd, talked briefly with one other soldier with lieutenant rank in his name tag, then turned to speak with her unit and the surviving soldiers from the other unit that now were leaderless.

“This is our last stop. The mansion is five hundred feet ahead on the main street. It seems the President Snow offered shelter to the people, that’s why they’re all heading there and main street is full of peacekeepers. Now we wait for the signal to start the assault.”

Rested against the wall, Cas eased the grip on his weapon and pointed the barrel down. His heart continued to slam against the ribcage with each beat after the quick battle and the run but the adrenaline prevented him from feeling tired. Looking at the others, he noticed he wasn’t the only one with flushed cheeks from the action and the cold.

They all found a way to rest a little and recover their strength, and Dean came to Cas’ side. They didn’t speak, just remained side by side, Dean’s shoulders pressing lightly his own, there was no need of any other comfort.

Soon, Sam, who was talking with the soldiers of the other unit and reloading his weapon, joined them.

“Guys… Things may get confusing… We better stay close so we can protect each other.”

Sam didn’t need to elaborate. His words were enough for Castiel to know he was not willing to lose his brother in battle, just as Cas was not willing to lose Dean and Dean certainly couldn’t lose either of them. They would either die or thrive together.

Minutes dragged slowly as they waited in growing tension. Cas controlled his breath to maintain the calm but couldn’t keep his hands still. He reloaded his weapon with a new magazine. He stored the used one in his backpack. He grabbed the water flask and moisturized his dry mouth, then offered it to Dean, who drank some too. He put away the flask and proceeded with a function check on his weapon.

That was when they heard it. It seemed like the sound of a missile approaching, the zoom sound growing louder and louder until they saw it cross the sky above the alleyway. The explosion came just a second later from somewhere on the main street. Cas didn’t need anyone telling him that was the signal.

The rebels burst in a sprint out into the main street. Cas hoisted his gun and joined them.

With the explosion, the citizens heading for the mansion crouched on the ground to protect themselves from the crossfire between peacekeepers and rebels, making the white uniforms easy targets even in the clouding smoke.

Castiel, Dean, and Sam were still behind the front lines, that was composed of a large contingent of rebels that were disguised among the citizens waiting for the moment to advanced and attack the peacekeepers. Massed between the recently arrived rebels, they had no clear vision of the battle ahead and their guns were pointed upward. Some peacekeepers were in higher ground, in balconies on the buildings flanking the street or on top of vehicles. None of them were still standing after they passed.

More explosions blew up buildings, vehicles and people, creating a chaos that disbanded the crowd. Scared citizens ran to the mansion, risking their lives, and the rebels found an opportunity to spread across the battlefield. With an open view, Castiel pointed his gun to the white targets on ground level.

A vehicle with a mounted gatling gun survived and was ceaselessly firing at the rebels.

“SAM!” Dean screamed by Castiel’s side to be heard over the gunfire and Sam turned around, momentarily scared something bad had happened. Dean pointed to the vehicle and it was enough: Sam nodded and ran away.

Cas didn’t have time to see where he went, Dean hastily pulled Cas along as he also ran, but towards the vehicle and they reached it from the side. The peacekeeper operating the machine gun didn’t notice them, distracted by the shots Sam was firing at him, what gave Dean enough time to climb the truck.

Without hesitation, Dean drew the pistol from his thigh holster and held the peacekeeper in a headlock, exposing his neck. He put the weapon under his chin, were their helmets gave no protection, and shot.

Dean released the limp body, now with a bloody hole on the top of the helmet, and it fell and slid down the side of the vehicle. Some drops of blood splashed on his face, but Dean was apparently unaware of it.

Castiel put his weapon aside, took hold of the gatling gun the peacekeeper had been using and turned it to point to the mansion instead of the rebels. Not wasting time, he fired it against the peacekeepers farther away. Two other peacekeepers were much closer, coming to the vehicle to reclaim their position but Dean took action for those. He put the pistol back to its holster and drew a knife, then jumped out of the car to fight with them hand to hand.

Distracted watching Dean knock their weapons out of their hands, Castiel didn’t notice a third peacekeeper raise his gun, take aim and shoot.

There was no immediate pain. Air was knocked out of his lungs and he only felt the impact that propelled him backwards. In the small platform he was in, his foot found no support and Cas tripped and fell from the vehicle. The pain came when his head hit the ground, radiating down his spine and also from somewhere down his body.

He moved a hand to his hip and his fingers touched something warm and sticky. Something liquid. Slowly, because of the pain, Cas lifted his head and observed his hand.

It was red with his own blood.

And it was not only in his hand. He could feel it flowing out of the wound in waves, it drenched his jacket and his pants and it dripped down his backpack pressed underneath him. A massive amount of blood that he knew shouldn't be outside of his body. It also flooded his mouth, and the metallic taste reminded him of President Snow's rose scent. In his ear, the sound of his heart working in a frenzied beat mostly deafened him.

With all the strength he had left, Cas pressed his shaking hand back on the wound to try to stop the bleeding. He didn't dare to move more; even staying still, the pain was too great. Cas kept his eyes open looking at the sky, trying not to panic and not lose consciousness as the sting seared across his body like sharp blades. It reached all the way up to his throat, closing it by pain and blood, and down to his toes in an intense tingling. He tried to understand where he was hurt and he was pretty sure his pelvic bone had been shattered by the bullet, but even to think was too exhausting.

Dean’s face seemed to be in front of him, but it was fuzzy and as consistent as a mirage. He tried to focus on the sharp and quick breaths his lungs were demanding, but it never seemed to fulfil its need of air. Dazed, he observed as a hovercraft with the symbol of the Capitol glide above them. The familiar sound of Hunger Games’ parachutes was a dream like lullaby, the sound he least expected to hear in a battlefield, and in a last strand of lucidity, Castiel thought the Capitol had become his Arena.

When the sound of many explosions completely deafened him, Cas’s eyes closed and he blacked out.

 


	28. Death’s Door

 

His head hurt. His neck hurt too. It would be easier to point which parts of his body weren’t hurting. He was in the same position - sitting alone against the wall of the hospital’s waiting room - for at least three hours. Someone called his name.

“Sam?”

Sam opened his eyes and Jody was in front of him, looking as in bad shape as anybody else. She didn’t wait for him to stand up, just sat beside him, resting her back on the wall.

“They told me you worked with communications in Thirteen. But... Were you from Four?”

Sam couldn’t possibly imagine where that conversation was going. He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to continue.

“I got a message. I was told to address it to you, only you.” Still, he didn’t speak a word. Though, he turned his head to watch Jody carefully. “Apparently, they were trying to reach you since the battle, it’s been two days and they didn’t know you were here with your brother… It’s...about your father...”

Oh.  _ Oh _ . Sam sniffed, eyes suddenly burning to restrain the tears. She didn’t need to say anything else, he got it. John was dead.

Sam didn’t know how to react. He wanted to cry and scream but at the same time - just stay very still and not be bothered. It had been years since he last spoke to John, who was never a good example of a father, but somewhere deep inside, Sam wished he had time to talk to the old man, to explain himself and make up for the lost time. He would never have that chance again and that made his chest heavy and tears stubbornly came to his eyes.

He wondered how he would tell Dean that.

 

 

Sam knew he and Dean got lucky in the battle. He had only fractured his radius and ulna, nothing too bad, but it was enough to have his arm in a plaster cast. Dean had a head concussion, also not too bad, but it left him between conscious and unconscious for half of a day. Somehow that wasn’t a bad thing, because Cas… Cas’ situation wasn’t good.

Now, Dean was stood up against a wall, arms crossed, chin on his chest and eyes closed. Sam didn’t need to be there to know Dean was in that same position for few hours. He was still waiting for news of Cas.

And Sam needed to deliver him the news of their father’s death. He approached Dean, chest heavy not knowing how to deliver the new information.

“Dean, anything new?”

“No.” He didn’t even have the trouble of opening his eyes. His voice was hoarse and dry. “Before you ask, I’m okay. I don’t need water. I don’t need food. I don’t know what I need.”

If Sam could, he would take all of Dean’s pain away with his own hands. He imagined that that was how bad Dean was after he left Four. Dean was just so miserable, it was something Sam never thought he would see. He was more wrecked then when he was shot in District Two. Dean was devastated, it was clear he didn’t know what to do with the situation he had in hands.

And Sam still needed to tell him the bad news.

But Sam couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough.

Finally, he decided to talk to Bobby first and to leave Dean alone like he seemed to want so much.

 

 

“Hi. I’m Sam Winchester, from the 504 squad. Also worked with communications in District Thirteen. I need to contact someone from Four... East side of the city, under the name Singer. Bobby Singer.”

“I ne ed to talk to my supervisor first. ” Said the man in Thirteen’s uniform who Sam had never seen before. “Just wait here.”

Sam nodded and the man left. He was in an improvised headquarters - one of many that were being created after the final battle. With nothing much to do, Sam walked around the place, looking for anything special. That was when he found a list named ‘Deceased from District One’. It was only the first page one of a small pile. Quickly he took the sheets in hand and looked over for District Four’s list.

There were four whole pages with names before District Five’s list started. The names weren’t in alphabetical order, and his father’s was at the bottom of the first one. His eyes continued to travel through the names. He recognized a few last names, however none of the first ones.

Then he found what he wasn’t looking for.

_ Robert Singer. _

Okay. There was no way Sam would be able to hide those deaths from Dean anymore. He silently cried the whole walk from where he was until he got to the medical center where Dean and Cas were in. He was sad for John and Bobby, yes, but he was about to crush Dean and  _ that _ was making him tear. He didn’t want to do that. He just wanted a peaceful life with Dean, Cas, John, and Bobby. Not being surrounded by  _ memories _ of them. Sam had enough of living with the memories, that was all he did since he left District Four. Last thing he wanted was to make Dean live like that as well.

When he arrived, he found Dean in the same place, now on the floor, knees close to his chest and face on both hands. For a second, he thought Cas was gone and Dean was there mourning. Only when he got closer he noticed Dean sleeping.

Not having the heart to wake his brother up, Sam sat beside him, being careful not to touch Dean and let him rest. He closed his eyes too, but he was unable to sleep. Not long after that, he felt Dean moving. Sam opened his eyes and saw Dean looking at him, silently crying. His eyes were full of fear and pain.

“Dean. I need to tell you something…”

“Cas…?”

“No, not him,” Sam assured Dean, tears already dropping from his eyes again, knowing that would make Dean’s pain worse. “It’s… Dad and Bobby.”

Dean’s nose crooked and his eyes suddenly were only tears. He didn't emit any sound, but his tears were dropping freely. Sam leaned forward to hug Dean. It was sloppy because of his plaster cast, but it seemed to be what Dean needed.

They remained like that until someone called their last name.

"Winchester?" They both looked up. A man dressed with doctor clothes stood in front of them. “Are you here because of Castiel Edlund?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Dean stood up quickly, wiping his face. “How’s he?”

“We should talk.”

 


	29. In My Time of Dying

 

_ The rebels moved forward but Dean didn’t. He saw Cas falling and he immediately shot dead the motherfucker who shot Cas. Then he ran towards Cas, dropping on his knees beside him, not giving a shit if he became an easy target. _

_ “Cas? Cas? Hear me? Cas?” _

_ Cas had his eyes opened but he didn’t seem to be able to see Dean, he only looked up,  following the Capitol’s hovercraft when it flew above them. _

_ “Cas, please, please.” _

_ Dean heard the sound of Capitol’s parachutes falling but his attention was on Cas. He saw blood everywhere, clothes soaked dark with it and a big puddle was forming on the floor. His hands were shaking and he couldn’t find the wound. _

_ Then an explosion happened. _

_ There was silence. Then people screaming for help. Too much dust. He couldn’t see Cas’ face anymore, but he knew Cas wasn’t conscious anymore. Dean thought of his brother too and his heart started beating too fast, he felt it against his ribs. _

_ “SAM? SAM?” _

_ “DEAN!” He heard Sam respond. They weren’t far from each other. _

_ Knowing his brother was alive, Dean looked down at Cas again. _

_ “CAS! CAS! Wake up you asshat! You promised me! You are not fucking leaving me! Cas!” _

_ No response. Nothing. He lightly shook Cas. Nothing again. He touched Cas’ face. It was cold. A hand touched his shoulder and he looked at Sam, who had hints of blood on his clothes, but nothing bad. _

_ “Sam, Cas- he- I think he-.” _

_ The words wouldn’t leave his mouth. _

_ Sam grabbed Cas’ hand and positioned his fingers on his wrist. Dean had his head on Cas’ chest. Nothing. _

_ Panic took him over, senses annihilated. He had lost Cas. _

Then he woke up.

He wasn’t in the battlefield.

He was in a hospital.

Cas was still alive.

It was only a _ really _ bad dream.

Sam was beside him and he looked like shit. An alive shit, at least. Dean was so grateful for Sam being alive, he didn’t have the chance to tell his brother that yet - or he had, but his mind was too busy on Cas. The idea of losing Cas  _ and _ Sam was unbearable. The mere thought made lonely tears fell from his eyes.

“Dean. I need to tell you something…”

No. no. no. no. “Cas…?”

“No, not him. It’s… Dad and Bobby.”

It felt like a punch on his face. What he felt on the nightmare suddenly became real. His sight became foggy, tears completely uncontrollable. Dad and Bobby. They were dead. How could something that started with the hope of a better life simply take everything from Dean? He left John and Bobby and now they were leaving him. He left Cas in the Capitol and now…

Sam moved to hug him and Dean felt a little less worse. He still had Sam. They would stick together. Just like they promised.

"Winchester?"

For a moment Dean had forgotten they were in a public place. He had been there for almost two days and no one had addressed him at any moment. It was a doctor.

“Are you here because of Castiel Edlund?”

“Yeah, it’s me.” His heart race increased and he stood up, having no idea how his legs were able to support him. “How’s he?”

“We should talk.”

“Now? I’ve been here for almost two fucking days and  _ now _ you think it’s time to talk to me? If he’s fucking dead you are too. YOU HEAR ME?”

Sam held Dean’s arm and it was wise because Dean wasn’t kidding.

“Please calm down, sir.”

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down.” He raised one finger to the man’s face. “You tell me Cas is alive and well, that you do!”

“He’s alive.” Not well. Dean waited. “Mr. Winchester, you must understand that we have many people to assist. Many children were hurt on the Capitol’s bombing. Most of rebels went back to their Districts or to Thirteen. Mr. Edlund is only being treated here because he’s from the Capitol. His father was well known and I assure you he’s being receiving the best treatment possible for the situation.”

Some parts of what the doctor said remained on Dean’s memory. Like how after everything that happened, Capitol killing many of their own, their citizens still had better treatment. Not that Dean would complain, Cas absolutely deserved it, but how many didn’t? Also, the doctor said that Cas’ father  _ was _ well known. Was he dead too?

“Mr. Edlund’s situation is critical. He was shot in the pelvic area. His bone and few organs were hit. However, what makes his state critical is the fact that he lost too much blood. He suffered hypovolemic shock due to the amount of blood he lost. With so many people needing blood transfusion and Mr. Edlund being a rare type, we didn’t have much to offer. That plus the wounded organs and broken bone, Mr. Edlund can still have a multi-system organ failure at any moment.”

“So he can… die?”

“Yes. He is in a lot of pain, even taking heavy medication. He’s been asking for you many times, but we couldn’t allow it since you’re not family. However Castiel doesn’t have any immediate family anymore, with that we are opening exceptions. He wants to say his goodbyes.”

Sam answered something to the Doctor, because Dean was in shock. Cas could die at any moment. If they called Dean in, it meant it was bad. Real bad. Next thing he knew he was being led into a room full of beds. He identified Cas right away. His stubble became a beard, the rest of his face was pale, but the hair was still in a beautiful mess. That thought made Dean’s heart warm a bit, however the sensation didn’t last long.

As Dean got closer, he noticed that Cas was thinner. Maybe in the eyes of random a person it would go unnoticed, but not for Dean, who knew every inch of that man’s body.

Cas was sleeping. They said something about that being a possibility. He wore new clothes, all white. Like that, he seemed to be just asleep.  _ He was _ , Dean thought. Sam walked around the bed and observed Cas from there. He didn’t know Cas as well as Dean, but he knew how much that man meant to his brother, Dean could see that in the worry of Sam’s eyes.

Dean stood beside Cas’ bed and reached for the hand. It was warm, thankfully, not so smooth like when they first met. It had the hints of a fighter. Dean didn’t care if Cas was a businessman or a soldier, all he wanted was to have Cas back.

Dean didn’t know how much time he waited. All he did was to alternate from petting Cas’ hand to the hair, and wonder if he would be strong enough to say goodbye.

Cas finally woke up slowly. He looked at Dean and smiled as big as he could. The same way he did when Dean tells him a stupid joke that he finds extraordinarily funny. It was beautiful and it made tears come to Dean’ eyes.

“Dean. You are here.”

“Of course I’m here. We are in this together, right? We need you, man.”

“I am so sorry Dean.”

“Don’t worry, just rest a couple of days and soon you’ll be out of here with me.”

“I don’t think I can.”

Dean swallowed down a bigger wave of tears. “Don’t say that, Cas. Of course you are coming with us.”

“I feel terrible. My body- I, I don’t think I-” A solitary tear ran on Cas’ face.

Cas tried to come up with words and turn them into sentences but that was just not happening. Dean could see Cas fighting with his brain, but he let Cas have his time with the words. They stayed quiet for a full minute, Cas with eyes closed, forehead frowned while he thought.  When he opened his eyes again, they were more focused, as blue as ever, watered with restrained tears.

“I know you would do anything to save me from perdition, Dean, but you’ve rescued me already.” Castiel paused, taking a moment to full and empty his lungs with air. “You can let me go.”

Dean started sobbing and crying. He heard Sam crying too while watching the scene.

“No. No can do. I’ll rescue you again, Cas.”

“I don’t believe you can, Dean.”

“Cas. No. No. Don’t say that. You can’t leave me. I- I can’t- We fought to be together. How this is even fair? How I’m not getting you in the end? I found you. I’m with you. Cas, please stay with me. Fight for me.”

Cas cried too and it was visible how that not only emotionally hurt him but also physically. He closed his eyes and held Dean’s hand tighter.

“I will. For you. But for now… Please take care of yourself. You haven’t left this door yet. For me, Dean, rest. Sam will need you.” With the mention of his name, Sam gasped. Cas turned his face to look at the taller Winchester. “Take care of him, Sam. He loves you more than anything. Don’t leave him alone.”

“Okay.”

That was all Sam managed to say. Cas moved back and looked at Dean. He smiled again. “You are amazing, Dean. I love you so much. Promise me you will take care of yourself.”

“I know. I love you too. And I promise. But I’ll be here as soon as I can. You better be walking around when I come back, alright?”

The doctor arrived and Dean knew that they had to leave. He lowered himself and touched his forehead with Cas’, then placed a kissed there, following for one on Cas’ bearded face and another on his lips.

“Be right back, okay?”

Cas didn’t answer, only smiled and cried.

 

 

 

His head hurt like a motherfucker and he still had to process everything that happened that day. Sam wasn’t in his best shape either, blindly following his brother in the unknown streets of the Capitol.

The Capitol Dean knew was unrecognizable. Buildings destroyed, people wandering around with no direction. It was very clear how it became a scenario of  war in which everybody ended up hurt. Dean heard something about President Snow not being so much of a president anymore. Alma Coin was the new leader, apparently.

They passed by many improvised shelters, most of them belonging to Thirteen and they were made for different goals. In front of one of them, Sam stopped.

“Is your apartment far?”

“Three blocks away. Why?”

“Gonna stop and talk to Jody here. Didn’t have a chance to hear from Thirteen yet. I think I’m technically homeless now.”

Dean’s head hurt too much to think about that so he just nodded. “Big white building in the corner on the right side. Apartment 522, fifth floor.”

“Got it.”

Alone, it was even worse. Just the presence of Sam by his side was an reassurement that something was going to be okay. He kept walking. The view now was much more alike his memory. When he got to his building, it was exactly the same, like nothing happened.

In front of his door he remembered he didn’t have the key. Not thinking twice, Dean kicked the door open. It made his whole body hurt, especially his head. Maybe he did need to rest.

His apartment seemed gigantic now that he was used to living in a small compartment in Thirteen. With Cas.

Incredible how a thought could grip your heart and squeeze it hard.

With few steps, Dean was in front of his bed. All of his worthwhile memories for it were with Cas. Laughter. Touches. Their first time together and the first time Dean woke up with Cas by his side. All only memories. They could even be easily made up.

Then he sees it. Castiel’s tie on the nightstand. The one he wore when Dean baked him a pie for the first time.

Because everything  _ was _ real. Cas was pretty much real as well as all of their memories and feelings. And at any time Castiel would be gone. Dean touched the black fabric however didn’t dare to pick it up. Instead, he grabbed the lamp and threw it on the wall.

An adrenaline rush possessed Dean and he started to throw things far, breaking furniture and glasses. He was screaming, crying and breaking stuff because he needed the bad feelings to go away. There wasn’t a scenario where he lost his father, uncle and boyfriend at the same time and he would still live a life doing okay.

The time could’ve had stopped or gone wild, he wouldn’t know. When Sam arrived, Dean was in the bathroom, where there was nothing else he could break. He was washing the blood away from his knuckles from smashing one of the mirrors.

“Dean? What happened here?”

Dean exited the bathroom and stopped to see the mess of broken stuff around his apartment. Except for the nightstand with the tie which remained untouched. The apartment finally seemed full, Crowley would like it now. Crowley. Who was dead too.

Dean thought about Benny, Garth and even about Charlie, who he didn’t know that well, but probably would become a good friend with if shit hadn’t hit the fan.

Sam was the first one to start picking up the broken stuff and piling them in a corner of the apartment. He was silently crying again, and Dean noticed he was too.

 

 

Dean slept like shit so he decided to go back to the hospital. They didn’t let him see Castiel, but being in the same building as him was enough. Sitting on the floor against the wall was somehow more comfortable than in his apartment. Dean slept just like that.

If he had nightmares, he didn’t remember. But he didn’t wake up on his own. At first he thought it was one of the nurses bringing him bad news and he startled.

“Hey, it’s me. It’s Charlie.” Dean stood up and the redhead gave him a tiny smile. “I heard Cas is here. Is it true?”

“Yes.”

“Is he okay?”

“Not much, no.”

Maybe Dean had no more tears to cry. Or maybe now he had to be the stone where Charlie would rely on, so he needed to hold it together. Charlie raised one hand in front of her mouth and gasped. Dean explained her Cas’ situation.

“And now what?” She asked.

“Now we wait.”

“Did you see him?”

Dean nodded, losing the ability to talk for a few seconds. “He- He told me- he- He thinks he ain’t gonna make it, Charlie. It’s so messed up.”

“Oh, Dean.”

Charlie embraced Dean by his middle and rested her head on his chest. She was crying now. He petted her hair and hooked his chin over her head. He felt better having to take care of Charlie for a change instead of replaying the same words and memories of Cas inside his head over and over again. Eventually they sat down on the floor, Charlie always holding his hand.

“You know he loves you, right?” She said while brushing her thumb over Dean’s. “He couldn’t stop talking about you. And when he wasn’t talking, I’m sure he was thinking ‘bout you.”

The corner of Dean’s lips went up for a second. They did love each other. Charlie continued.

“I’ve known him for some time now and he had never been that happy. He was scared as fuck, sure, but there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you.”

Oh, he knew that. The feeling was mutual. Dean would sell his soul to have Cas again. While he thought about what to reply, the same doctor as the day before came. Everytime someone from the hospital approached Dean, his heart sank. He was probably developing a doctor phobia or something.

“Anything new?”

“His condition is apparently the same as yesterday.” Not knowing what to take from the statement, Dean waited. “That’s good. If he doesn’t get any worse, he might have a chance.”

A chance.

Charlie’s grip on his hand was tight, it would have hurt if Dean wasn’t feeling so light. He shouldn’t let that much hope get to him.

“Mr. Winchester, would you like to see him?”

_ Fuck, yes _ . Dean thought, but felt that Charlie hesitated only a bit of second. He looked at her and pressed his finger on hers before letting go of her hand.

“Charlie will visit him today.”

“Dean, but-”

“He will love to see you. And he will get my adorable face for the rest of his life, so don’t worry.”

She hugged him again and wiped her tears before following the doctor.

Too late for Dean not to be high on hope.

 

 

Castiel didn’t get neither better nor worse for the next few days. Dean was allowed to visit him everyday only for a couple of minutes. Cas wasn’t awake every time, but when he did, he always made sure to tell Dean he loved him like that was the last time they would meet.

Sam turned Dean’s apartment liveable again, which Dean found impressive because he had broken almost everything inside of it. Then Sam had to go to District Four to deal with family business: things like Bobby’s Bakery and the Winchester’s house. They talked everyday on the phone while he was there and they decided to sell both the bakery and the house. Everything was kind of a mess when it came to Panem’s economy, but a house and a bakery were things the community was always going to need, so they were sold pretty fast.

Dean had no intention of going back to District Four. Nor Thirteen. Nor stay in the Capitol. He wanted a completely new life. However, he would only decide about that matter when Cas had his permission to leave the hospital. Sam followed his decision.

And Castiel was getting better little by little. The chance to have a multi-system organ failure was out of the chart and soon he had only to deal with the wounded organs and hip bone.

Back to his apartment, Dean ran into Garth one day and found out that he was going back on living with his family in District One. He left his keys with Dean and Sam said he would start living there when Cas came back home until they decided what to do.

Sam ran into Benny in District Four and it was a relief for Dean to know that his friend was safe. Apparently, Benny left to District Four right after the assault on District Two, the one when Dean was shot. He fought on the rebel’s side of the war there in Four. He was safe.

Sam also helped Dean to find some news about Claire and Jack. As they weren’t allowed to fight, they stayed in Thirteen and there they still were, at least for now. Knowing the kids were well brightened Cas in a way that gave Dean even more hope that they would be able to achieve the happy life they fought for.

Then the day Dean thought would never come finally came. He baked three pies and a three dozen cupcakes to welcome Castiel back home. Dean, Cas and Sam spent the whole day eating and laughing, avoiding all the uncertain topics in life still to be settled.

For the first time in Dean’s life he had his future on his own hands. And he wasn’t alone. Sam was finally with him – also very excited about having free will for the first time in life. And Cas was there too, as perfect as the day Dean met him in that party. The night they rescued each other.

 


	30. The Memory Remains

 

It took some time after the end of war for Castiel to actually feel like himself again. His organs were patched quickly but his pelvic bone took longer to mend, and because he needed to ease the weight on his hips, he was bedridden for most of the time. When he wasn’t asleep, or doing therapy, he received visitors. Dean came daily, and Sam and Charlie every other day. Jody stopped by sometimes, and Garth came before he went way. Claire and Jack joined Dean’s daily visit when they were released from duty in Thirteen.

Once Cas was out of the woods, every day Dean perched on the side of his hospital bed and told him the news from the outside world. He listened with wide eyes as Dean recounted the tale of how Katniss Everdeen put an arrow through Alma Coin’s heart instead of Snow’s, but the former dictator ended up dead anyway by the hands of his own people. Fear took him, suddenly, and Castiel dreaded that could be the spark for a new uprising, but Commander Paylor soon rose to the position of leadership, much to his relief. Then, finally, things begin to calm and settle across all of Panem.

Dean seemed like a different person to the one on the hazy memory he had from the day he told him goodbye, believing he wouldn’t make it to the next morning. The dark circles under his eyes disappeared when he started to have full nights of sleep free of nightmares, even if it meant he was sleeping bundled in a blanket in an armchair beside Cas’ bed. His face no longer was boney and gaunt, which meant he was eating well just as Cas had asked him to. Cas also asked him to not shave for a few days, and Dean gladly sported a scruff.

Returning home ended up being more overwhelming than he expected. The blessing was that he was alive, that they were all alive, but still, memories flooded him when the smell of Dean’s baked goods reached his nose and happiness filled every cell in his body when he saw the small living room packed with people, what made it look even smaller. It mattered not. There was plenty of room for all of them inside his heart. He cried happy tears that day.

Eventually, Cas was given permission to walk on his own. With Dean firmly holding his hand and a large encouraging smile, Cas took his first steps as a new man.

They stayed in the Capitol only because it provided Cas with the medical aid he needed. In much better health, Cas was able to deal with bureaucratic things he ignored so far. What to do with his store, his destroyed house or his parents’ abandoned apartment. They had both died, apparently with the explosion of the parachutes, but what exactly happened he never found out.

Cas didn’t want any of these things, he decided that long ago. His new life should not be tinged with the bad parts of his past self.

In one of Charlie’s visits to Dean’ apartment, Cas gave her the documents transferring her ownership over the store, and powers to make the sale of the other properties in his behalf.

It was unspoken that they were never going to remain in the Capitol. When nothing more binded them to the city, Dean and Castiel went East in a peaceful journey they both needed.

Cas always wanted to see the ocean, and no description could fulfil his desire or match the view of sandy beaches and calm clear water crashing on the shore. He could live there a thousand years and never get tired of that soft sound lulling his dreams at night or the hues each new sunrise had to offer. After everything he had witnessed in war, natural landscapes quickly became his favorite, filling his eyes with wonder and his heart gratitude for being alive.

Dean liked the water too, but he preferred the low gurgling of shallow rivers or the peaceful ripples on secluded ponds and so they continued and travelled North.

A village in District Six was where they stopped. Moving between Districts wasn't uncommon now because border control was a thing of the past. It wasn't hard to find a house either - many owners died in the War - and Castiel insisted on buying. He didn't spend on luxuries at the Capitol and with the sale of the land in which was his collapsed house and the apartment of his parents, they had a small fortune that allowed them to live a modest life for many years to come. The landscape around the house was what immediately hooked them. Sitting on top of a soft mound stood the building, a small cottage-like two story house, already showing the signs of old age. To one side there was a wooded area, growing spruce and birch and pines and evergreen trees. On the other side, not half a mile down a slow descent, a little stream cut its way along the hills.

It didn't take long for them to settle and then pick up a new pace in life, and soon Sam joined them. The neighborhood was especially friendly with Dean, who was from a District just like them. When they discovered Dean was a baker, at least once a week someone came to their door to place an order for a cake, and before they could notice it turn into routine, every morning a small line formed at the backdoor to pick up fresh bread. The business grew on its own and they quickly had to build an annex to host the bakery and Dean hired more bakers to help with the workload. Doing what he loved most increased his confidence immensely, and Cas loved to see a happy smile frequently on his face.

Castiel took some time to adjust. Life now was peaceful, yes, but he was forever scarred from war and he constantly worried about things that were beyond his reach. He communicated with Claire and Jack whenever they could - Claire joined the new Army in the Capitol, and Jack returned to District Four and wanted to become a teacher -, and with Charlie frequently, but his mind only found solace when gardening. There was something very soothing about tilling and tending the earth, watching a seed grow and blossom and bear fruit. Castiel's hand could bring life, and that was something that could make his heart beat lighter.

He was in the garden on that morning. Dean had gone out to buy supplies for a batch of pastries he was doing that afternoon and Cas decided to execute the idea he’d been gathering the resources for during the last few weeks. By the time Dean arrived, Cas had finished removing a plant from its pot and still had both hands dirty with earth.

“There you are. I called for you all around the house.”

Cas’ head shot up to see Dean against the sun, standing near him and with a confused face. “Uh, Cas? What’s going on?”

Cas cleaned his hands on the side his pants and got to his feet.

“You were not supposed to see it yet, Dean, it’s not ready.”

“Yeah, but now I’m curious. Come on, tell me, why do we have all these big rocks in the garden? I’m pretty sure _you_ could make something grow out of it too, but that’d probably just be smaller rocks, y’know.”

Cas shook his head, but there was actually a small smile in his lips. “You are an idiot.”

“And I love you too. Okay, seriously now, what’s going on?”

“I’m doing a sort of… cemetery. Kind of like an altar.”

“A what?”

“Dean… We lost a lot of people in our life and we never had anything… material, to symbolize and honor their passing. So I decided to create one.” Dean’s eyes widened, Cas couldn’t tell if by surprise or disgust. “Of course, this is just for the symbolism, no one is actually buried here. Come, I’ll show you.”

Castiel led Dean to two round stones standing side by side, just plain rocks with no engravings but with several yellow pansies recently planted around them. “These are for my father and my mother. I know things weren’t really good with us, and only near the end we were able to make amends, but I never got to say goodbye… This here feels like closure, makes my heart feel better. The pansies mean thought and remembrance. It means that, though they are gone, they will never be forgotten.”

It’s only then that Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes. Whatever confusion was there before, it had now been replaced by a stern look while Dean stared the pansies.

“And those right there, they are for your parents.”

Cas then guided Dean to two flat basalt rocks, crowned with white blooming lilies. Their smell permeated the air.

“And the lilies represent…”

“Return to a state of purity and innocence. I remember when you told me about them.”

He seemed lost to thought and Cas let him digest. John was not a perfect father, but he was still Dean’s father. And Mary… It was Mary, and he knew how much she meant to Dean and how much he missed her. When Cas looked to his face again, a single tear had reached his right cheek leaving behind a glistening trail, and Dean seemed to be holding back others. After a while, standing in the warm sun while the smell of the lilies surrounded them, he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Few more seconds passed before Dean could recompose and open his eyes just to find Castiel in front of him, head tilted and looking worried.

“I… Cas…” His voice cracked and again he swallowed. “I just realized this was something I never thought I needed. Thank you Cas.”

“You’re welcome.” Cas said with a smile. There would be a more appropriate time to tell Dean that while setting down the stones for his parents, Castiel broke down and cried too.

“This is not all in fact. There’s something else, and I was about to finish it when you arrived.”

Cas kneeled on the ground and carefully picked a sapling ready to be transplanted. In silence, Dean followed him down the slope towards the river. He still seemed to be a bit perplexed by Cas’s creation. Many months would pass before he would be able to come to the altar without shedding a tear or leaving with a peaceful heart.

It's only when they are almost reaching the riverbank that Dean noticed the earth was revolved in a few places and another sapling similar to the one Cas was carrying was already planted, but were clearly from a different species. An open hole in the ground waited for the last one. As Cas sit down to plant the sapling, Dean followed his moves and sat opposite of him. He helped Cas place the fragile plant on the bottom of the opening and then both begin to pull earth to fill the hole and cover the root ball. Dean was far from being an expert in gardening, but had seen Cas doing many tree transplants to know he needed to be soft and gentle with the sapling. A few times their hands touched when, in a coordinated move, both pulled a large portion of earth to the hole and pressed down to compact the soil and level it with the crown.

When they finished, both rose to their feet to observe the planted sapling. Though it was still small, it had a firm and thick trunk already and could stand upright on its own. The oval young leaves ruffled lightly in the river breeze and for maybe a minute, Dean and Cas stand still, mesmerized by the sound. Dean was the one to break the silence.

“What is this?”

“This is a sapling of a beech tree. The beech is a symbol for tolerance and patience and healing, for knowledge of the past and learning and understanding. It also means a light spirits, and I believe that is because when they are grown and tall and their canopy is large, there is a warm green light and cool shade under it.” Cas stopped to take a look at Dean. He had the same stern focused expression as before, listening and keeping every word Cas said. “I chose this tree to remember my grandmother. A tombstone seemed too cold for her, I wanted her memory to last and grow and I know she would love this view to be her resting place.”

Dean observed the sapling a little longer, then sighed and pointed with his head to another tree planted. “And that one?”

Cas took Dean’s hands and together they begin to walk towards the second sapling, planted about 100 feet from the beech. It had wider and thinner leaves with many indentations, and such a slender trunk that Castiel had to place a stake along it to prevent it from falling down.

“The other one is an oak tree. The oak is known for its endurance and resistance because it can live for many centuries. Wisdom, courage, honor, security and strength of character are also attributes assigned to the oak tree. It can be very tall and its roots grow deep and wide on the ground and for that the oak is a symbol of balance.” Cas stopped talking when they arrived. He gripped Dean’s hand tighter. “This one is for Bobby.”

In slow movements, Dean kneeled down in front of the sapling. He took a leaf and very gently stroked it with the pad of his thumb.

“Bobby… You idjit… Why did y-”

He choked when the tears come back and this time Dean couldn’t hold them, so he just let them flow, let his shoulder shudder with the force of his feelings. If he ever felt ashamed to cry in front of anyone, that had disappeared after Castiel. Like Cas’ late grandmother, no tombstone would ever fit Bobby. Dean let the tears come as long they wanted. He doesn’t know now but the the tears that fell on the revolved earth under his knees watered the oak’s roots, ran in its sap and help it grow taller than any other oak in the area.

When Dean opened his eyes again, Castiel had kneeled beside him and was running a comforting hand on his back. “Thank you Cas. The trees, the stones…”

Cas gave him a soft smile and nodded shortly. Words failed him now but the silence meant there was a mutual understanding and his action meant more than any words could express.

Right there, by the river and the trees, Cas and Dean stayed a long time, in that moment and also in the future. For in that village was where they stayed and their own roots grew with the roots of the trees.

Sam visited the cemetery and the trees even more than Dean and Cas. One day, he questioned Cas what tree would represent peace or would mean the reforging of a strained relationship, to which Cas suggested the olive tree, and was not surprised when Sam asked permission to plant the olive tree sapling near the oak and the beech. Cas gave him all the guidance but Sam insisted on doing all the work himself. He didn’t want to pry on Sam’s intentions but when everything was done, Cas had to be sure.

“This is for Adam, isn’t it?”

There was no answer for a while, and finally Sam just nodded once.

As Cas expected, each of them slowly but surely found closure. A time came when Cas was able to remember fondly some moments with his parents, and whenever his head was cloudy, a walk to the slowly growing beech was enough to help him see things through a new light. Whenever Cas couldn’t find Dean in the house or the bakery annex, if he looked out the window, there he was his figure in the distance, sitting under the shade of the oak. Once Cas silently approached him and overheard Dean fake-talking to Bobby in the same manner he used to talk to Sam when he still didn’t know where he was, updating the memory of his uncle with all the happening of his new life.

Most importantly than closure, they found a place to call _home_.

 


	31. Home

 

Dean woke up so early that day, it was still dark outside. That was the only part of being a baker that he didn’t like. Even having a sleepy and all sexed up Castiel in the bed beside him wasn’t enough to lift his mood. Only strong coffee did the trick. After the first mug, Dean started to enjoy the little things such as the different shades of blue in the sky, slowly changing from dark to light as he did his job. Cas was right; installing a glass window in the kitchen was a great idea.

Not long after Dean started his production for the day, Cas woke up. He still looked great and sexed up just like Dean left him earlier. Cas was finally giving up on keeping his hair neatly brushed, and Dean couldn’t be more glad. The messy locks of hair looked amazing on Cas, no further explanation needed.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Morning, sunshine. Made you coffee already.”

“You always make me coffee. Don’t need to tell me.”

Of course, Cas was as grumpy as Dean before having his coffee. No judgement there. However, just like Dean, after the first cup, he was a completely different person.

“You look great this morning, Dean.” He said, hugging Dean from behind and kissing the back of his neck. “And last night was great. I love you.”

Dean grinned remembering their adventures in bed from the night before. Cas gave him one last kiss and left to do his work in the gardens. Both of them had a busy agenda for the day.

They worked for hours because they were directly involved to the biggest event of the year: Sam’s wedding. Dean’s brother found love with a woman named Eileen. They lived in the same street in a neighborhood next to Dean and Cas’. Now, a few months after they announced their engagement, it was time for the ceremony.

They met with a very anxious, though extremely happy, Sam for lunch. Benny joined them too. He had been working as a driver between the districts after the war was over. Whenever he could, he would stop by to say hello to the Winchesters. Castiel was still a bit jealous - especially after Dean told him he had a tiny crush on Benny in the very beginning - but he was friends with Benny too. Castiel was always overly cute with his possessiveness when their friend visited.

In the afternoon it was time to start preparing for the big event. They helped a delivery crew to take the goods and flowers to the vehicles and Benny left with Sam to the wedding location.

Dean and Castiel went back inside the house to take a shower together just because they could. There was nothing else beside actual showering and exchange of gentle and tender touches. Both of them enjoyed to take care of the other at any time. They dressed without rush. It wasn’t going to be an overly dressed event and they wore only slacks and button-ups, both of them all in black. Cas was wearing that same tie he forgot at Dean’s. He only wore it on special occasions.

“Cas, before we head to the wedding, what about a walk outside?”

Cas nodded and they went left the house. Dean laced his hands with Castiel’s and they walked in silence. The day was beautiful, just like Sam deserved for his wedding. Perfect for what Dean was about to do too.

Dean thought he would be nervous, but he wasn’t. Their life had highs and lows, but it was still perfect. He loved Cas in a way he never imagined to be possible. And he knew Castiel loved him just as much.

“Cas… You remember that day in the rooftop? The first time we went out after… you know… I was a dick and left your house…”

“Dean…”

“You remember?”

“Yes, of course I remember, I will never forget that day. You were stunning.”

“Hey!” Dean stopped, trying to hold off a smile and pretend to be mad. “I’m not stunning anymore, is that what you mean?”

“I think you are cute.” They laughed together. “What about that day?”

“That day you took care of me. I knew you cared for me and wanted me to feel good. I knew from the way you looked at me and how you shared stuff with me. I didn’t know I loved you back then, but I think was falling for you already. And I was scared as shit because back then… It was only suffering, and pain and loneliness in my life. It didn’t matter how much I tried to connect with people, I was never able to be completely me next to anyone before you.”

Castiel squeezed Dean’s hand lightly. “I did, you know.”

“You did what?”

“Loved you back then. I realized I was falling for you that day.”

The thought of Castiel falling for him made Dean blush. Even if he lived that loved for few years now, it was still a little hard to believe that Castiel Edlund genuinely loved him. For real. Since he was baker full of secrets that tried to lie to Castiel with fake accent in a Capitol party.

“I still am, somehow. I feel like I’m falling for you more and more everyday. Everytime I think I can’t love you more, Dean, you prove me wrong.”

That made Dean blush harder and he suspected Cas was saying that kind of stuff just to make him blush. He eyed Cas and on his face there was the most sincere smile.

“You remember that day in the swimming pool too?”

It was time for Castiel to blush. “Yes. Absolutely. Vividly.”

“There it hit me how much I loved you. It was insane, I didn’t know how to deal with the intensity of it. I’m still trying to manage, it’s fucking huge how much I care for you and I want to give you everything.” Dean paused, he had to. Castiel was looking at him like he was a god on Earth. “You told me that it was your first time with a man and all I wanted to do was to make you feel great. I wanted to be your first and your last and you have no idea how much that freaked me out.”

Cas laughed and Dean noticed that the man was silently tearing. It made his heart start to beat faster in expectation of what was about to happen. Was Castiel already aware of Dean’s intention with that talk?

“Then we were together, and we got separated and back again, well, you were there, you know what happened… I basically lost you way too many times, more than a person should be allowed. But I got you back every fucking time.”

“No escape from Dean Winchester, right?”

“No. Nope. Not even in your dreams.”

Dean stopped walking and positioned himself in front of Cas. He dove his hand inside the pocket of his slacks and closed his fingers around two cold little objects he knew the shape and color of by heart now with all the staring he had been doing since he got them.

“I wanted to be your first and your last. I still do. I don’t think we need a ceremony for me to know that or anything. I don’t need proof that you’re going to be there for me. You don’t need proof from me neither. It’s so fucking difficult when you are a stubborn pighead, but it’s still so easy to be with you. So easy. So easy that I don’t even know how to explain. Loving you is both affection and instinct.

Castiel got Dean’s hand, the one holding tight the [two black tungsten bands](https://i.etsystatic.com/10702435/r/il/12f99d/1623491233/il_794xN.1623491233_ilv2.jpg). Slowly he moved Dean’s fingers, one by one, until the hand was open, the rings together in the middle.

“I want you be yours. I want you to be mine. Forever.” Dean said and Cas brushed his fingers on the open palm in front of him, still not touching the bands. Dean looked up and Castiel’s semblance was enough to make his anxiousness go away. “Cas, will you be mine forever?”

Cas lift his eyes to Dean’s and smiled. “I already am.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Our first Big Bang and first fic ever!  
> Thank you all for reading this story! We hope it has touched you as much as it did to us; Hit the kudos and leave us a comment! And If you want to talk, you can find Mah (dean_squad) on [tumblr](https://dean-squad.tumblr.com/) and Bea (vibraniumarm) on [tumblr](https://vibraniumarm.tumblr.com/)  
> or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tiredcastiel/).  
> Again, thank you so much!


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